Sicknote
by juliasejanus
Summary: After Cairo, Alex does not feel 100%.
1. Chapter 1

Mirrors do not lie. Alex had gotten used to the bruises over the past fifteen months, the various wounds with their scars, then the broken bones and then the burns and even more scars. It was July, three weeks after returning from Cairo, his second week in San Francisco and he looked at the deep dark bruising on his skin. Bruising on his arms, legs and torso. They should have faded to yellow long ago. No fights, kidnappings or threats of imminent death here. He was tired and felt crap but that was the expected, he was on anti-depressants and seeing a stupid counselor. The bruises worried Alex. Was it psychosomatic? He was also hot and his glands were up. Time to trust in the internet and some self diagnosis. Anyway, it would just confirm he had man-flu. Only it didn't ...

Acute Myeloid Leukaemia

Cancer - The Big C

Caused by Radiation

Alex was glad for once he was home alone. Everyone else out at the beach for a picnic, he had cried off because of his slight temperature. Two aspirin was not going to cure this. Not when the stupid therapist cost $400 an hour. Treating this in California would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Alex packed his bag, picked up the phone and called Mrs. Jones.

Without a hello, Alex just spat out his demand when he was put through to his ex-boss. "I want to come back to London. ASAP." He gave no explanations, he was a teenager after all, explanations and conversation were not required.

"OK Alex. There's a flight tonight at 8, you have just enough time to get to the airport."

Leaving a note for Sabina and her parents was a bit cruel, but a necessary evil. Cancer treatment was way out of Edward's budget.

The flight was not too bad, as a teenager traveling alone, the flight attendants looked after him. The seat was in tourist class though. Alex was met at Heathrow by a crummy social worker. Better than his nightmare of someone from K-unit or worse, either Crawley or Jones. His first thought was to come clean and scream "No, I need to go to casualty, not the children's home", but Alex decided to keep his worries to himself and suffered the 40 minute drive into West London. Trying not to listen to Mr. Bright and Cheerful talk of positive strategies and settling in. He arrives at a large detached house in Chelsea, home to three care workers and twelve kids ranging in age from six to fifteen. At, sixteen you were out and into a bedsit. The kids are all fairly friendly as he was introduced around and had his short tour. His assigned room had bare walls, but decent furniture. Alex was not a short term placement, this was it. There was no chance of fostering in his case, not after he blew the Pleasure's offer out of the water.

That night Alex phoned Tom to let him know he was back and got told to go screw himself after fucking off again. Well, what exactly had Alex expected, after Tom had been used by Blunt to force him to go to Cairo. Better off without friends. Then Alex's blood ran cold. He'd put all the kids here in danger. It was an easy decision to leave, just after lights out. It was a two mile walk to St. Stephen's Hospital. The whole being ill was probably him just being stupid. It was flu, an allergic reaction, highly unlikely to be cancer. After a two hour wait, he gets to sit on a trolley, give his name, date of birth and the good old truth of no fixed abode as he has runaway. The junior passes his notes onto the houseman, then the consultant comes in and Alex then gets a bed on the adult ward after his blood tests, x-rays. The planned bone marrow biopsy in the morning. Thank god for the NHS, no waiting around when you're an emergency.

Alex is asleep, after his painful minor surgery, when the same social worker arrived. One person Alex did not want to wake up to was the bearded, cheerful, do-gooder, who picked him up from the airport, is sat by his bed. At least the guy left Alex alone to enjoy the affects of the painkillers.

At dinner, it was the head care worker from the children's home by his bed. In the crappy hospital gown, all of the dark bruises on his arms were on show.

"So, Alex. You gave us the slip for this fantastic place?"

"Yeah, hanging out with the hard core party crew, Right, Lorna."

"Yes, now here's the catering. Sandwiches, tea and ice cream for Mr. Rider."

Alex was not hungry and egg sandwiches were the least evil thing on offer, with the alternatives the choice of pork chops or chicken curry.

Mike Harries watched the teenager eat the ice cream very slowly, but leaving the sandwiches in their plastic wrap. "No appetite?"

"No not really." Alex took a sip of the thick, lukewarm tea and grimaced.

"Want me to get you a takeaway?"

"No. Thanks for offering, but I feel a bit off. Jet lag and surgery don't mix." What Alex really wanted he'd never get back. Jack, who could not cook, but was excellent at sandwiches, salads, stir-fries and tapas. His own cooking skills stretched as cereal and toast marathons. "I want my home back. Jack, who used to look after me, would always make me s'mores when I was ill. A concoction of marshmallow, digestive biscuit and her secret chocolate supply." Alex started to tear up and looked at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the universe.

"I heard you grunted at Jeff this morning. He's a good social worker. He's trying to get you sorted with a placement. Being shuffled between the dump and here is not ideal."

"The dump?" Alex guessed it was what the kids called the home.

"There is a place at a half way house in Dorking, teenagers in bedsits, two staff on site. Not ideal for chemo, but Jeff is working on something better."

"I'm nearly 16, whats the point in February, its not Jeff's problem anymore."

"It is while you're in treatment and if it is Leukaemia, like the doctor's think, you have a tough road ahead." Mike had read Alex's file. Serial bereavements, failing school, arrests, suspected arson, running away. Over a dozen complaints filed by the school, neighbours and parents over his previous placement with Jack Starbright. Alex should have been removed from her care last April after the incident with that crane, but Alex had been failed by the system. The hippy housekeeper had pulled him out of school in June, taken him to Egypt and died. A classic case of yo-yo parenting, with neglect and physical abuse suspected, followed by overcompensation. "You need to look after yourself. My girlfriend is a life coach, all positive thinking, yoga and Pilates. This disease takes no prisoners. Hell, I'll learn to cook those s'mores things, if it gets you thinking of the future. All this before getting a school placement sorted and Year 11 is a tough one, without spending it throwing up."

...

Alex felt better the next morning and was going back to the Dump on Cheshunt Road. He guessed he was free from MI6's machinations now and would just have to make the best of things. In three to four days he would go back to St. Stephen's for the results of his various tests, see a haematologist, and get the chemo started. Alex guessed that with the immediate biopsy, it was almost a cert he was ill. On arriving back after the short taxi ride, Mike had told the other kids to leave Alex to rest and that he was tired. Cary snuck in, a fifteen year old like himself, but one that did not attend Brooklands.

"You go to St. Anthony's, I guess?"

"No, Sacred Heart. You went to Brookland. I overheard Mike yesterday on the phone. Whatever you did, blondie, they don't want you back." The girl stated with her arms crossed.

"I kind of glad I'm out of there. No friends, I had to endure being sent to Coventry and pathetic attempts at bullying and the fact nothing I did made up for the fact I ran away during a school trip and was missing for nearly three months."

"Oh, right. Was that recent?"

"Last September." Alex then shifted, from Scorpia to the Bahamas, then the whole bag of crap over Ash. "So, are you a straight A type of girl?"

"Well, try to be. Want to be a doctor. Only here 'cause my mum's in the nuthouse. Stopped taking her meds and went completely manic on me. I called for the men in white coats, so she tried to beat the crap out of me. She's a fantastic mum, when she takes her meds. So what's your story."

"Orphan." Alex knew he could leave it at that, but his life was way more complicated than that. "Parent's died when I was a baby. My uncle brought me up. Only thats a lie, a series of housekeepers had that pleasure. The last was a crazy hippy law student, Jack was great. Well, Ian died in a car crash in 2001. She continued to look after me, even though I was impossible... she died in June. Terrorist bombing in Egypt. I really liked the school there as well". That was pushing the terms of the OSA to the limit, but Alex was not going to sugar coat her death.

"Shit and I thought my life was crap. Welcome to the end of the line. I'm trying to get a scholarship to boarding school... Ampleforth in North Yorkshire is likely. I already have four GCSE's."

"God, now I feel like a brain dead chav."

"No, Blondie. Daniel is the brain dead chav in this house. You are interesting. I better let you rest. Sweet dreams."

Alex pondered on the fact she had not asked about hospital, then again the house meeting had probably let on he was ill, as in really ill. Might die, ill. After all those crappy excuses for missing school, this was almost poetic justice. He was ill because of Sarov, that bomb and standing in the radiation hot spot in Murmansk. The thought of dying was not altogether frightening. He was not religious, but was it the end? In October he had been sure his mother was watching over him. Was she still? That was comforting, in a strange way. He fell asleep looking at the simple photo frame on his bedside table. John and Helen on the left and Alex and Jack on the right. The photo of him and Ian that used to be in the frame had been binned, with his conclusion Ian had really been a twisted git over his game plan for his nephew. Really all the shit that had happened could be laid at Ian's door.


	2. Chapter 2

The next three days passed in a blur with Alex spending most of his time holed up in his room resting, only venturing downstairs for the set meals, not that he ate much. He had short conversations with Cary and Mike, but all the others left him alone. On Friday, Jeffrey Mathers, Alex's own personal social worker turned up again.

Alex felt a bit sorry for the guy, who had drawn the short straw of having to deal with Alex's completely fucked up life at short notice. "I'm really sorry about all the running around you've had to do and the fact I haven't been very communicative." The guy did not look cheerful or very positive today and hopefully an apology would smooth over the bad impression Alex had given his placement team.

Jeffrey was older than he looked, which was one of the reasons he grew a beard. He'd seen many teenagers over the years. He'd dealt with serial runaways, truants and those with rap sheets a mile long, this was his first cancer patient. "You have trust issues. I hope we can both work through those. However, your test results are in and you have an appointment at Great Ormond Street Hospital, so we better get going. Tube Ok with you?"

"Sure."

The last thing the Consultant, Mr. Conway, had said was "see you monday, Elephant Ward, 9am".

It was official and most of the conversation had gone over Alex's head. He really wanted to talk to someone, but who? Not the practical strangers in charge of his life now. "Can I call Edward... errr... my foster father at my last placement. I left in a hurry and I kind of owe them an explanation since the reason I left was because I suspected I was, you know, ill."

"Sure, we can stretch to one phone call to the US, just don't make it a regular occurrence, our budget is not infinite."

Alex sat in Mike's office for a bit of privacy and then took several deep calming breaths for the obvious bollocking he was about to get. It was 8am on Friday on Californian time, there was only very small chance that Sabina would pick up this early during the summer holidays.

It was good to hear Edward's voice when he picked up, obviously already at work in his small office at home. "Edward Pleasure."

"Hi, Edward. Its Alex. I'm ringing to apologize for leaving and to give you an explanation."

"Well, its normal to discuss problems with your foster parents and not just decide to leave with no warnings. I take it you did not tell Mrs. Jones your reasons for going back to England and by the way where are you staying?"

"Well, right. Sorry again, but I wasn't feeling well and medical care is expensive and I wasn't covered under your medical insurance and yes I did hear your fraught conversation over the fees you were paying for my psychologist. Well, here the NHS is all free and I have leukaemia, start treatment on Monday." Alex took a deep breath. " I have not told anyone at the bank and I don't plan to. As for living arrangements I'm at Lockwood House, Cheshunt Road, SW1. Its a kids home. Its cool, I'll be here or Great Ormond Street Hospital Elephant Ward for the foreseeable future. I know I should have talked it out with you, but I did not want to force you all to come back to England. You're settled there. I have a history of making monumentally rash decisions, but its my life and you really should not have to deal with all this shit." Alex stopped talking and there was a dreadful silence. "Ok well sorry again. Thanks again for helping me after Jack died. Bye."

Alex was relieved it was a short, no a very short conversation and the fact he had not been shouted at. So all in all not a bad result.

...

Edward was sat by his desk stunned by the news Alex had just told him. Blurting out he had leukaemia and then saying goodbye. He got up and went to talk to Liz, who was in the kitchen drinking tea.

The self employed journalist helped himself to a cup of tea from the pot and then gave Liz his news. "Alex just called."

"Changed his mind again and wants to come back." Liz said shortly, still hurt and angry he had just left.

"Err. No. He felt guilty we were paying for the trips to Michelle."

"Why didn't he say something?"

"I guess because when he was with Jack, he was the one making all the decisions. She let him do whatever he wanted. Alex has no idea about parental controls or discussing things rationally." Edward paused and sipped the rapidly cooling Earl Grey. "Alex was not feeling well and guessed the medical fees here would be prohibitive. He's been to see a consultant in London. He has leukaemia. The people at social services in Kensington and Chelsea have placed him in a children's home. He starts chemo on monday."

Liz stared at Edward completely shocked. "He left because he had cancer?" In a million years, she would never have guessed it was something so life changing and serious. "He left so we did not have to pay medical fees... we would just have moved back to London again. Why just leave?"

Edward took Liz's hand and tried to make her understand that Alex was independent and had been forced to grow up despite only being fifteen. "Alex did not want to force us to change our lives for him. Easier to just go and cope on his own. He would never want to disrupt our lives and its Sabina's final year in High School, next year. You have a good job and I like it here. He knows he was an outsider and took away any future regrets, accusations and recriminations. This way we still go to see him but our lives aren't irrevocably altered."

"He needs us."

"Yes, but he also has made his own decision about this. We should respect that. Now I need to ring him back and tell him to keep in touch and if he needs anything, not to be afraid to ask. We may have only been family for a short while, but he still is family. Despite his strange behaviour."

"Ok, but on speaker. I want to talk to him as well." Liz then had the sinking feeling of how to break this to Sabina, who had taken Alex leaving as a personal rejection.

"Hi... Alex Rider just called me on this number. I'm Edward Pleasure, he was fostered by us and he left last week. Would it be possible to talk to him?"

Mike called out for Alex and the teenager slunk back into the office. "Edward is on the phone for you. Good job on getting him to call you back. I wish all the kids did that."

Alex took the phone off hold. "Hi... again."

Liz did not hold back "What were you thinking? Of all the stupid decisions to make! Oh Alex, we would have all come home with you. You should have told us. This is serious, you should not be facing this alone." Liz exclaimed. "I feel so horrible, I thought you were a nasty, thoughtless boy but you left to protect us. You shouldn't have. I thought you liked it here?"

"I'm sorry Liz, its just scary. I thought there was a good chance I was wrong about the bruising and stuff, but my biopsy showed my white blood cells are buggered and well, its not a quick fix. I'm looking at a minimum of six months treatment, maybe more. I have a 60-80% chance of being clear of cancer in five years. The prognosis overall to good, its just getting there is rough. My bone marrow biopsy was disgusting by the way. I have a bruise the size of my hand on my leg from the huge needle they stuck in me. The good thing is I start treatment straight away and the cancer's not spread. I'll probably email you all the details, this phone call will be costing the earth."

Edward then cut in "Forget the cost of the phone calls Alex. You need family to get through this. I will talk to your social worker and we will arrange a visit later on this summer. Call or email us about anything and everything. I respect your need to deal with this on your own but don't forget about us. We're still here for you."

Alex sniffed and wiped his nose. "I... I don't regret coming home, but thanks for understanding. I promise I'll be in touch."

...

Mike sat back in his chair. "I take it you left to save them having to pay for your medical treatment."

"Yeah." Alex said after blowing his nose.

"No making unilateral decisions here. We are a team. I include Jeff in that. Decisions now have to be made by committee, that how things work in foster care. You also have a full medical team to consider and a school, if I can get one of the local schools to take you. You might have a year with tutors, but the educational services at Great Ormond Street are top notch so no more missing school, it will probably all be by self motivation."

Alex smiled, "So, its all up to me. I might have to get Cary to tutor me this summer. I missed a shit load of school last year."

"Just to warn you, she charges. You get to do her chores."

"Oh, I haven't done any yet," Alex was worried that missing them was a cumulative thing.

"I'll start you off easy. Set the table and get drinks out for dinner. We will put you on the rota, but its not set in stone, if you feel ill we won't make you."


	3. Chapter 3

The nightmare had been horrific, real in every detail, straight out of his memories from last autumn. Alex had been strapped to a gurney in that illegal donor hospital in the outback, on the way to loose his eyes. The inevitable slow death by piecemeal surgery. The nurse smiling as she wheeled him to his fate. Alex had woken in the pitch black, his heart hammering against his ribs, his entire chest throbbed in pain. It had taken several moments for the complete terror to subside and for him to hear the faint noise of traffic, to notice the orange glow of the sodium street lights outside, the distant screech of a blaring car or house alarm. London, he was safe, in London, in the still unfamiliar room at Lockwood House; his home. Only tomorrow, no in seven hours he was starting four days of tests, treatment and explanations of his life from now on. His first treatment cycle with chemotherapy. This Monday morning was worse than any school day even with multiple tests. For a boy who was used to death threats, how do you face this paralysing fear? Alex stood and wiped his sweaty hands and face on the duvet cover. A cup of tea, then a shower. Then he would strip his bedding and take it down to wash, like a good boy.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean and tidy, Alex had tidied up last night after dinner and had been obsessive in his methodical cleaning blitz. This work had served two purposes, one he was making up for missing nearly a week of chores and two, he now knew where everything was and where all the little treats were hidden. Jill was a chocoholic and had a stash of Dairy Milk, Doug liked shortbread and decent coffee and Mike was a tea snob. Alex then made himself a pot of darjeeling. Fortnum and Mason loose leaf in a small two cup pot with interval strainer. A little bit of calming heaven in Mike's very own Wedgewood bone china cup.

With the soft melodies of Radio 3 in the background, the phone rang. Alex picked up without a second thought answered in a cheery voice "St. Brutus's Home for Incurably Criminal boys. How can I help you?"

"Funny Alex, by the way you are an absolute toerag. God, I miss you so much. I need a hug and I bet you need a million hugs. Dad just sat me down to tell me. Leukaemia, hospital tomorrow and a freaking children's home?"

Sabina sounded like she had been crying, her voice harsh and scratchy. "I missed you too, Sab. Look, you keep to your grand plan. Remember, graduating High School at 17, top SAT's score, Ivy League College. Hell, if I'd stayed in America your entire College fund would have been lost on my hospital bills. I know I'm a hard headed bastard, but its better this way. Hell, I'm getting used to the kids here. I kind of fit in with misfits, the unwanted and abandoned. Everyone here is completely abnormal, so its cool."

"Shut up and stop being so positive, but that's the point isn't it. I bet no one mentions the 'C' word now."

"I have blood cancer, I am getting treatment for blood cancer and fingers crossed by Christmas, if there's a miracle, I'll be in remission. In, four hours and fifteen minutes I'll be at Great Ormond Street and I bet they take another shit load of blood for tests. I get the life goals thing now. I've decided to go all out with school work while I feel OK. Get all my coursework done ASAP. There's a girl here, a bit like you. You know straight A's, fifteen and already picked the medical school she'd going to. You'd like her. She's done me a study plan, I've got a bag of her notes photocopied to catch up on; all I missed last year and all I have to do in return is give her tutorials for French, the one class she's only getting a C in."

"Right, Lover boy. Should I be jealous?" Sabina joked. They were definitely friends, who flirted, but Sabina liked her boyfriends to be mature, well off and completely in her thrall.

"Come off it, Sab. You're dating that jock... errr Clint or Chuck something or other."

"Its Henry, you dork. Well, I rain checked him on Friday and he's been texting me like mad since. I think he's a bit too keen."

"Oh you are a complete goddess, we all just worship you. I really am sorry about the note, but I live in fear of your wrath." Alex joked, but had been seriously worried he'd screwed his friendship with Sabina as well.

"Well, I was spitting mad last week. You really have made me feel like a complete bitch. Promise me you won't keep things to yourself again. Bad news, good news even complete monotony, you have to keep us informed. Mum and Dad never do anything lightly, they were 100% behind fostering you. So you may have left but you are still one of us. So, stick to that study plan. Get 10 A* and shock everyone at Brookland."

"I'm not going back to that Shithole Comprehensive, Mr. Bray declined my return. I still haven't got a school place sorted but between you, the tutors at the hospital and Cary, I'm sure I'll do fine. God, next June seems like a million years away."

"It'll be here before you know it. You would have enjoyed Santa Valez High. You would have been a complete jock and had all the girls after you."

"Yeah, right. No one liked me at Brookland. I still can't get over that Tom told me to take a running jump last week"

"OMG he didn't! Does he know about.."

"Me being sick? No, our conversation was very short and consisted of him ranting at me. I guess its for the best after Blunt got him shot. Its a new page here. I'm not guilt tripping him back into being friends. Just think I used to be popular. Well, I want another cup of tea before Mike gets up and you have just run up a huge phone bill."

"Dad will just have to lump it. Get an email account sorted. I expect you to kept me informed of all your ups and downs. Let me know if you need anything. I promise Mum won't bake anything for you. She mentioned scones but I told her just to send a hamper from Harrods or M&S. God, remember the chocolate chip cookies, she baked for you getting here?"

"Well, they were about on par with Jack's attempts at baking. Hard as diamond and tasting like sweet socks. I promise to talk soon. Caio, Bella"

"Look after yourself, Hot Stuff."

Alex had another pot of tea and at five thirty he went for a shower. He was checking through his bag. Notes, two pads, post it notes, pens, three workbooks, three changes of clothes, his two favourite paperbacks and his one photo frame. Mike was stood in the doorway. "Got everything? You have £20 allowance to take with you."

"No, next week I'll need toiletries but I've got enough for my little holiday." Alex trying to be humorous, but it was going to be no holiday on the beach. He was used to life threatening situations, his usual modus operandi was being a cheeky bastard, but it suddenly felt very flat. His own body was now the enemy.

...

Hospitals smelled weird. Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children was about four times bigger than St. Dominic's. It was very busy and Alex felt extremely claustrophobic in the crowded lift up to the sixth floor of the newest part of the hospital, the Variety Club Wing. The corridors and public space was all bright and airy. The transition from Main Reception to the Wards was very quick, by 8:50, Alex was being smiled at by Marian, one of the nursing team.

Marian took in the details of the teenager's tired, pale and drawn face. Deep circles under his eyes, and his pensive worried look was expected. This was scary. "The consultants will come in to examine you once I've gotten the basic details down. You know height, weight, allergies and any medication you are already taking."

The nurse was quick and efficient and soon Alex was left to get into the standard issue gown ready for the doctors to have a good poke. He wondered if Jeff was still hanging around. Later on, he was having a procedure to put in a central line which would stay in for the entirety of his chemo. Then two units of plasma were being transfused, then he would have the evening to rest. Tomorrow was the start of his initial four days of chemo. Two days to relax back in Chelsea, then the full dose treatment started. No wait up, no rest until he was officially in remission. His life, until Christmas, was here.

He had chatted quite happily to the nurse as she asked direct questions, of how he was feeling, his aches and pains and his past medical history. He was still on antidepressants, but had to get the pills out to show her, as for the life of him, he had forgotten the name of the American tablets. He had stated he was devastated emotionally by Jack's death and that he still felt numb, lost and crippled with guilt. Even though rationally, he knew who was ultimately responsible for that. The blame for everything was at the door of Blunt, Grief, Razim or the CIA but she was still gone. His anger at Ian had not lessened over time, but grown as the fall out from creating the ultimate teen spy had destroyed Alex's life, home and happiness. Jack had been his last link to home, security, of normal, all gone. He had moments when he thought he saw her in the corner of his eye. A flash of red hair, a petite build, a certain type of laugh, only for them to be complete strangers.

Sat alone in a stupid gown, in a white examination room. Alex did what he had not done for six weeks since her death. He began to cry and once the tears started he could not stop the damn holding back his anguish.

...

The haemotologist for University College Hospital sat in his room with Jeff Mathers and introduced his houseman, Seamus Reilly and Dr. Gupta Singh, the Consultant Cardiologist from their sister Hospital, The London Chest in Bethnal Green.

Jeff was perplexed, he thought he had done his bit this morning, with the four forms he had signed downstairs on behalf of Chelsea and Kensington Council, who were Alex Rider's current legal guardians.

"Good Morning, Mr. Mathers. I am sorry if this is an inconvenience, but we have a small issue with Alex's medical records that needs to be brought to your attention. At the moment, we cross check all patient's records on both computer files and our paper archive. There are some omissions on the computer records for Alexander John Rider, date of birth 13th February 1987. He was admitted to the Chest on the 23rd October 2001 with in a critical condition with a serious chest wound, where he had emergency surgery to repair his pulmonary artery. A major procedure, which should have been monitored with several visits as an outpatient. His computer file has only his admission and transfer details, no further standard call backs or flags for necessary appointments. This is the reason for Mr. Singh being here. Alex will be having an ultrasound, an ECG, and possibly an MRI scan to see how his cardiovascular system is functioning, before we subject him to high dose chemotherapy. This is all very irregular. He was transferred right after recovery from surgery in October to a private hospital, St. Dominic's in North London. Not the type of place his pervious guardian, Miss Starbright, would have been able to afford, not at over £500 a night. I spoke to Mr. West there and he has not seen Alex since his discharge. This, I'm afraid rings alarm bells over neglect and very poor parenting of his previous guardian". The consultant then picked up a file. "This is the report from St. Stephen's. They mention likely physical abuse. Unexplained injuries over a short period of time, burns, broken bones and his extensive bruising. There is also the problem of Alex's remark that he was exposed to high dosage radiation last summer, but then he shrugged it off when asked for details. I was just wondering if you too were uncovering a strange inconsistencies regarding your charge."

"We have a file with over twenty written complaints about possible abuse/neglect and Alex's erratic behaviour after the death of his uncle; but, like you, we had nothing on our computer system. Our review of his case has made Alex an emergency ward of court as of last week. We will screen all his contacts from now on. We intend to keep a close eye on him up until his eighteenth birthday. His pervious placement was to his friend, Sabina's parents. That all checks out. It was cleared with us, but without any of those previous complaints coming to light. Alex has not said anything but Mike Harries at Lockwood says Alex is controlled, quiet and very withdrawn. He ran away twice in the last year, as well as getting in trouble with the police twice. Behaviour which would tend to suggest he was being abused and trying to either draw attention to it or trying to get away. "


	4. Chapter 4

Alex now got why he'd been placed in the children's hospital. He was being reminded that he was not expected to be tough, make all the decisions and to keep up a front as cool and calm. Treatment for AML was hard core. It was also the rarer form of Leukaemia. It had been Marian who had returned to find him in the middle of his emotional melt down and he really respected her for the fact she had been detached enough to let him get on with it. Just, handing him a tissue and knowing he did not want a hug. She had not offered platitudes, but a cup of water and a cool cloth to wipe his face when he got himself under control. With a soft "You boys, what are you like? I have three sons. Between fifteen and nineteen all three of them were impossible. In trouble, without a decent word to me or their father. Today its the beginning of your journey. What happened before was only preparing you for this fight. All of us here will listen or just be here if you want to stay silent. You know we have all read the fairy tales from social services, because I bet you have not told anyone anything."

"No, I told my friends Tom, James and Sabina. Sabina told her parents. Edward, Sabina's dad, was a good listener. I told him about Jack. You know its only a month since she died. It feels like yesterday and also like a million years since I saw her." Alex smiled, his voice as scratchy as Sabina's had been on the phone early this morning. "I put Jack on a pedestal. She was the one thing I was holding onto like a life line since my life became a nightmare. With her it was normal... OK, when in reality everything wasn't and was never going to be OK because I was being forced to do things… er … stuff." Alex then looked up. "Thats all over. I am here and this is what matters. Getting well and fuck everything else. Thats not being selfish, is it?"

"No, you have woken up in the real world."

"OMG, do not quote the Matrix to me again!"

"I like all the Alice In Wonderland metaphors, and Keanu Reeves." The middle aged nurse then winked at Alex. "Ok for the torture to begin, then honey bun"

"No time like the present." Alex said shaking his head. He guessed from now on it would be every sickly sweet pet name the sun from Marian. How could Alex have forgotten, part of training to be a nurse was the twin weapons of gritty sarcasm and gentle leg-pulling.

The ward had seventeen beds. Kids aged from three to seventeen were being treated. He was the second oldest on the ward this week. The eldest was Colin, who had ALL, and was in his third year of chemo. There were several really sick younger kids, some having aggressive chemo to kill their bone marrow in advance of a transplant. It was a wake up call. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, its a level playing field except it wasn't. It was horrible listening to the kids wail in pain or in pure terror. He at least knew precisely why everything was being done. He could read the fact files or ask relevant questions.

The kids kept yourself amused with craft activities, story time and games. It had been eleven year old Melissa who had asked over a game of Super Mario Cart, "Alex? When are your mummy and daddy coming to visit?"

Alex knew better than to lie. "They aren't. They died when I was a baby. My best friend Sabina and her parents are coming to visit in August sometime. She lives in California. I hope you get to met her, she's the best. At the moment, I live in a children's home, so I get to see everyone there again on Friday. I've been told we're having Domino's pizza to celebrate."

"I like pizza but McDonald's is better." Melissa asked while not missing a trick, still playing.

"Umm, I like Burger King myself. Whopper with cheese and onion rings."

The best surprise was that the food here was OK, a million times better than St. Stephen's. Here they catered for ill, fussy kids. Food was also presented in a fun and appealing way. Alex still missed Jack, he was considered odd because he preferred sandwiches and salads to hot cooked food. As for chips, he preferred the French 'pomme frites' and American 'fries' to the traditional fish and chips. Ian's fault for bringing him up all over Europe with a series of French and Spanish child minders and then an American housekeeper. His one visitor over the week was Cary. She had visited every evening, stating she missed intelligent conversation, even if Alex was a complete bastard and made her stutter and splutter in French for half an hour before relenting and allowing English.

"You should go on an exchange for several weeks. Then you'd be almost fluent. Learn words and pronunciation you should listen to French radio. Maybe watch a few films. I thoroughly recommend reading Lucky Luke."

"I bet thats a comic strip" Cary said drily at Alex's lack of academic prowess.

"Its funny. The horse is more intelligent than the cowboy. Way better than Asterix, but Tintin is OK, I guess."

"Tintin is French?"

"Written by the most famous Belgian himself, Herge."

"How can you be failing school, you know everything." Cary complained. Alex had excellent knowledge of Geography, Languages and Foreign Literature. If he could be arsed, he'd be top in maths and computing. Only last year, he only tried in an effort to please Jack. After Kenya, he did his hours, did the bare minimum in coursework and homework, but his heart was not in school. He had felt like an alien or a zoo exhibit. Stared at, whispered about and ignored. He did not belong and everyone made sure he knew it. He wondered what had changed. Here and at Lockwood, he had stopped wanting to be popular or normal. He was just Alex. Like it or lump it. The staff were lovely, so were the various playworkers and regular visitors. Alex mostly sat and did schoolwork. Redoing work he'd gotten a C for if the teacher was being generous, but now he wanted A's to honour Jack. She had been scary bright. Law degree, working hours providing free legal advice for a charity, while he was at school. He had never wondered on the bills being paid, only he had really known it was his work for the bank had kept them at Cheyne Walk. The threat from Blunt had been a very real one. Alex often wondered if four years at some dingy school for delinquents might have been a better choice. Water under the bridge now. Like Marian had said, this was the real world. The past was not relevant anymore.

The matter of the antidepressants brought the resident psychologist in for a chat. Alex felt different since he'd acknowledged his loss and the fact he had to move on. "Can I just stop taking them, now. I get the grief thing now. I miss Jack. Anger, loss, guilt whatever. I know she's gone, only I'm reminded of her everyday. What I don't get is that she was the housekeeper. I lost Ian, my uncle, last year, then I had a hard dose of reality about him being a complete liar after his funeral. So did that revelation just erase any grief or was it the fact I realised I was completely delusional about my feelings and our actual relationship."

"Wow.. thats a lot to go through. I take it you were responding well to therapy in San Francisco?"

"No, she charged too much and I never got whether I could tell her the truth or not. You are getting the cold hard truth, but I have had an epiphany. The past is the past and this... this is way more scary, than anything before. Even if considering a toss up between those bastards in Cairo." Alex still could not decide who was worse, the Americans or their enemy, Rahzim and his minions."

"You have learned hard lessons, for one so young. I guess you signed the Official Secrets Act."

"Yeah, stupid secrets. I don't believe in patriotism. My uncles fault for dragging me up abroad or should I say letting the staff bring me up."

"So, he was not a great parental figure."

"No. I spent most of my childhood waiting for him to pay me attention and I tried to be a perfect little boy for him. He was basically grooming me to be identical to my dead father. I guess he failed. I'd rather work at McDonalds than join the SAS."

"Oh, your dad was special forces."

"Worse, he graduated from the SAS to be a spy or as I know now a murderer, a liar, an adulterer and an abuser." Just like Ian, just like they wanted him to be

...

Alex felt weird in the taxi going back to Chelsea on Friday afternoon. He kept touching the hard lump concealed beneath his t-shirt , which was the line taped to chest and protected by a large surgical dressing. He still felt tired, but was not sick, nor was his hair falling out, yet. His weekend was him saying a brief goodbye to all at Lockwood. He would be back, he hoped; but nothing was certain now. Next week, someone else would be assigned the first room to the right of the stairs at the front of the house. He doubted anyone would call it Alex's room. He'd spent longer in hotels on vacation than he had here.

He got back and the hall was decorated with a welcome back sign. "OK Mike, I guess you have not told them I'll be at GOSH for six months then?"

"They know. I guess they want to give you some good memories of this place. Cary is organising a proper tea for Sunday. Dainty sandwiches, cakes and my bloody tea."

"Your tea is very nice, but I prefer Earl Grey myself or Gunpowder."

"You almost as bad as me. Come on, you get to decide on toppings on the Dominos order. There's drinks and snacks in the den first. Daniel has probably already eaten all the wotsits by now."

"No loss then. Start him on the Quavers. I like plain salted and BBQ flavour."

"Its a fight with Doug then. He's hogging the bowl of Kettle chips. Go mingle, I'll get you a coke."

Alex's eyes were drooping as he finished his second slice of pepperoni with green peppers and black olives.

"Come on Alex, you look shattered." Mike went upstairs and supervised as Alex cleaned his teeth and then just took off his jeans, socks and trainers, to sleep in his t-shirt and boxers. "Oh, by the way a Macmillan Nurse is coming in in the morning. Something about long term support."

"Sure, OK. Night." Alex said sleepily, not really caring about tomorrow only a good nights sleep.

...

Alex was still as tired in the morning, you never slept right on ward, not that his recurring nightmares helped; but last night he had slept for a decent 12 hours and did not remember any dreams, good or bad. He was still eating cheerios when Mike brought in the nurse, dressed in her smart dark blue uniform. Alex recognised her straight away. "Morning Mrs. Hale."

"Good Morning Alex. Long time no, see. I guess you and James fell out last year."

Alex had forgotten that James Hale's mother was a Paediatric nurse. This unexpected reunion kind of sucked as James, as the most popular guy on the football team and in Alex's year, had been the main instigator of the jibes, the name calling and treating Alex like he only existed to be bullied. It had made last year extremely lonely, frustrating and ultimately caused Alex to truly hate school.

"So, I guess you're here to give the pep talk, on support and positive thinking." Alex had already lived throuhgh that one on the ward so he decided to tell the nurse, just what her son was like, considering she had probably heard Alex was a looser drug addict from James. "Your son spent the last six months bullying me to the point that Jack had to force me to get up in the mornings. I know we used to be friends, but only those who are popular and perfect get to be James' friends. After Ian died, I missed most football practices, took time off school. Failed to integrate with foster parents. Well, Ian was never a proper family, so I guess thats my problem. I know I'm not perfect, I ran away twice and I have just left my last placement because I was ill. Why should your temporary parents get to deal with all this. So my support network consists of me, Jeff my social worker, who is not here and you, I guess. I think you should concentrate on someone who deserves your time. I'll probably just take off on you."

"Alex, I am here for you, in whatever capacity you need. I just live half a mile away as you well know"

"Right, look, I am going into hospital next week for the full six months of intensive treatment, longer if I need a bone marrow transplant. Anyway, I thought you worked at the Middlesex Hospital?"

"I do."

"So I'm out of your remit at Great Ormond Street. Thanks for the visit Mrs. Hale, but I guess this is goodbye"

Alex then stood up and left, going straight out of the house to get some fresh air.

...

Rebecca Hale looked a bit shocked. "I guess I'll have to have words with my son James. I was told Alex was in with a bad lot, not having a bad time dealing with Ian's passing."

Mike smiled "It was a bit of both, I reckon. Alex got involved with some bad people and when that happens you can't get out. It sounded like Jack took him to Egypt for a new start, only it turned into a nightmare. She was killed by a car bomb. Militant terrorists suspected. Alex witnessed it, blames himself for surviving. Has horrific nightmares. He then went to San Francisco with his friend Sabina and got ill. He came back for treatment on his own." Mike then went to pick up the minibus keys. "I better go get Alex. He's not meant to be wondering."

"I'll get him. I might take him home for a quick check of his dressing and a chat, which is the reason I was here anyway."

Alex was only 200yds down the road on the way to the shops, when a blue fiesta pulled up. "Get in Alex. I fancy a cup of coffee and your line needs checking."

The Hale's lived in a mews off the Kings Road, David Hale worked as a executive for British Gas; he had started out as a fitter, married his school sweetheart and had his 2 kids. Rebecca sat Alex down in the kitchen, a room he remembered well from his visits here after school.

Rebecca got her genuine italian coffee pot on the stove and put the milk in the microwave to heat up. "So you ran away last year? Were you on the streets?"

"No, I went looking for some old friends of my dads. It didn't work out well." Alex was thankful of the mug of coffee, Mrs. Hale put in front of him so he did not have to explain further on the events in Venice and Naples.

Rebecca could not fail to see the teenage boy close himself off, too used to no one listening, so why try and explain. "So lets have a look at that dressing. It needs changing every 24hrs, so I'll be by tomorrow to do the same." All business, the nurse opened up her work bag and put on a pair of gloves.

Alex stripped off his t-shirt and let the nurse do her job. She was very gentle dealing with the fresh set of bruises caused by the procedure to insert the line. "All clean, no infection and the clamp is as it should be."

"I got the full spiel from Marian at Great Ormond Street on Monday. Don't touch it. Don't let anyone else touch it. Don't pick at the insertion wound, don't damage it and definitely don't try and remove it. Keep it clean." A large white bandage was again placed to cover the area. "I still can't believe it'll be in for six months."

"Well, some chemo you only have day treatments and all you need is a drip fitting each time. With blood cancer, there is a need for regular transfusions and the likelihood of low blood pressure, with a line fitted, liquids be they saline, plasma or drugs can be transfused with no problems."

At this Alex yawned.

"I'll get you back so you can have a nap. I have four more house calls today."

...

James hated the weekends when his mother worked. Well, not always, only the days his father cooked. He came in after an afternoon spent kicking a football around in the park to smell it was Indian takeaway tonight, his mother's favourite. One she only very occasionally indulged.

He rushed to wash his hands and saw everyone sat down already eating.

"So Becks, whats the occasion?" Dave Hale asked, knowing his wife was fussy allowing the family to eat high fat and high salt take outs.

"Life's too short. Definitely in my latest patient's case. Fifteen and with aggressive leukaemia. Should be getting a bone marrow transplant straightaway, but he's an orphan with no relatives, but enough about work. Were you playing football today, James?"

"Yeah, with Dean and Tom. Same old crew."

"Really. Well, my newest patient lives at Lockwood House. I'll be seeing him again tomorrow."

"Funny, Tom said Rider was back in town and staying at Lockwood. He'll know your patient"

Rebecca ignored her son's statement, keeping her promise to Alex and not to let onto James she had seen him as he could do without the agro, instead the nurse began to ask her daughter, Alicia about her latest Girl Guides trip, which was a weeks camping in mid August. A first for the eleven year old.

...

Mike Harries signed for a large parcel from a courier. The address stated Interpol, Tours, France for Alex Rider.

He opened the packet in his office, read the letter and then called in Alex from his breakfast.

"You have a present from a Derek Smithers"

Alex read the short letter. Smithers saying he was sorry he missed Alex when he had returned to London, but he had left the Royal and General Bank and was now working for Interpol. Then continuing with "I heard about your poor health and school transfer problems from a friend in the Computing Department. I thought I better keep track of you. I will pop in to see you next time I'm in London. I have enclosed a few items to keep you amused in hospital. I'm afraid they are all very boring, standard spec, with none of my usual upgrades."

"Ok. Mike what did Smither's send me? A teddy bear?"

"No, Ipod and Ibook laptop. I wish I had friends like this."

Alex looked at the items, both were second hand, with signs of wear and tear. Accompanied by a grey laptop bag. Alex then looked at Mike. "I guess he got new replacements with his new job. He used to work at Liverpool Street with my uncle. He was very eccentric, but cool."

"So, he's now a cop?"

"No R&D, or Tech division. He's a bloody genius with anything mechanical. He'll be supplying communications and other kit to the investigators there." Alex put the items in their bag before asking a favour of the Head Care worker "Oh, Mike. Can we go to Sainsbury's tis morning? I need toothpaste, and a few other toiletries. I could also do with few more sets of pajamas and another towel. Its so warm on the ward, you sweat like a pig. I already spoke to Marian and I can get my clothes washed in the family support unit, so it means you guys don't have to keep coming to check on me."

"We will be checking up on you. You can always send your dirties back with Cary. She's adamant about continuing your tutorials and the French lessons."

Alex then got the joke. "We speak french, you doofus."

Mike laughed, enjoying the blush on Alex's pale face. It was good to know the kid was not completely jaded.


	5. Chapter 5

Alex was sat in the Consultants' office on a fine and very sunny Monday morning. He was here to discuss his next phase of chemo. Last week had been his taster. He had already had blood tests taken. He felt positive and in fighting form. He sat and thought about Cary and the lovely tea she prepared for everyone yesterday. The girl could bake. Alex had even watched. Rather than the complete disaster area he had gotten used to when Jack did anything with an oven, Cary was methodical and precise. She made baking look easy.

Trevor Conway finished reading the notes on screen, finally they had a full medical record for young Mr. Rider. The only question left was the mysterious radiation exposure the boy had mentioned. "OK Alex, I need to know where you were exposed to radiation, so we have an idea whether we can rule out that as a cause. I cannot really guess what you got up to as I already know there were no incidents reported by RIDDOR or the HSE last summer"

Alex looked at the door, but he could not escape this, but he could go straight to the horse's mouth. "I can get you precise readings, but I have to make a long distance phone call."

"The phone is all yours."

Alex closed his eyes to remember the number given to him by the Colonel in Russian Federal Security Services who had looked after him, escorting him from Murmansk to Moscow. Helping him deal with the horrifying events on that quay. He had learned a bit of Russian from both General Sarov and during the three days before he had been handed over to the British Embassy. A day and night spent in the Clinic in Murmansk.

A curt man answered "State your business".

Alex carefully annunciated in Russian "Hello, my name is Alexander John Rider. I urgently need to speak to Colonel Arkady Konovalov. It is about the incident in Murmansk last year. It is most important."

A short pause and Alex was put through.

Konovalov spoke in accentless English "Good morning Alexander, how can I help you?"

"I am really sorry to disturb you, but I really need the background readings from Murmansk and from my tests in hospital there for my doctor, eerr. Mr. Conway the consultant haemotologist at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children." Alex almost cringed at that, it kind of proved that he was still very young, too young to be caught up in bomb plots.

"Are you ill, Alexander." Konovalov's voice full of concern.

"Yes, very. I have Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. I started chemo last week, but they think if they know the more about my radiation dose, it may help with dosages for my medication and with some statistical study stuff." Alex now knew he sounded a bit hopeless as the discussion from Mr. Coway had lost him half way through with the long technical words.

"I will have the data sent through from the Hospital straight away. I hope you are well soon. Take care, Alexander."

Alex put down the phone. "Err, they will send the data through right away."

"So, you were exposed to high doses of radiation in Murmansk? Why were you in Russia?"

Alex looked at his feet. "Its complicated. I did a favour for someone and it went bad. I got involved in a situation that kept getting worse. I ended up in Russia. The Russian authorities were really good." Alex physically shuddered thinking of that quay, before getting sent to hospital for decontamination.

"Are you OK, Alex?"

"Bad memories. Nothing I can't handle."

The doctor's email then pinged. Trevor Conway then read three dosage readings from entry into hospital, after decontamination and then on discharge. There was a separate page on background readings over July/August 2001 for the Northern Fleet Naval Base. Alex had a higher dose than from a pure atmospheric readings.

The phone then rang. Alex could here a woman on the line but could not make out what she was saying.

"Thank you, The data is exactly what we required, Dr. Ivanova. ... Yes... Of course... Thank you for offering, but Alex is settled here, eight induction doses planned before Christmas, hopefully he will be in remission then, then three further courses for consolidation... I promise to keep you informed... Goodbye."

...

Cary knelt in front of the Holy Mother and prayed. Her vigil was noted by the priest, Monseigneur Patrick Maguire. He knew this parishioner personally, the girl whose poor mother was bipolar and had been sectioned. The man wondered if the girl was either praying for her mother or the fulfillment of her hopes and dreams as a doctor, to go and work with the misfortunate in Africa. The girl was idealistic and driven. This was the eighth day in a row she had popped in to pray, in the summer holidays no less. This girl should be playing outside in the sun, not inside with her devotions.

Cary stood and crossed herself, it was then the priest coughed slightly to make his presence known. "Good Morning, Miss Davies. How are you?"

"Good, Father. Got myself a French tutor so I should get an A for French next year as well."

The priest noted the girl had gone straight to discuss her educational goals. "Are your prayers for that place at Ampleforth College?"

Cary stared at the man "That decision is in the hands of myself and those that hand out the scholarships. No I pray for my friend Alex and his recovery. He is very ill and the odds for him surviving aren't great. He has leukaemia. I've been visiting him st Great Ormond Street three times a week, but his hair has started to fall out and he's so tired. He fell asleep mid sentence yesterday, the treatment is so hard. He keeps saying I should pray for the little kids on his ward, that they deserve my prayers. Its like he's so stoic and accepting of this. I expected him to be like most of the boys I know, selfish, stupid and arrogant. He's none of those things. Except he pretends to be stupid but he isn't, he was bullied really badly at Brookland last year, then the woman, who looked after him died and now this. Its not fair."

"No, its not. I think maybe you should get the entire congregation to pray for him. For that you must lead the prayers on Sunday. You have not been to mass for five weeks,"

"Not the same without mum. I'll come, I promise."

...

Miss Bedfordshire sat at the back at Sacred Heart on Sunday. She fingered her rosary. She particularly like the open prayers, when a member of the congregation asked for help either in time, money or just spiritual strength. A young girl with short dark hair and thin wire frame glasses stood up and coughed.

"Hi, I'm Cary Davies. I live at Lockwood House Children's Home at the moment. Two weeks ago, I made a new friend. Alex had been in hospital for two days and I originally spoke to him to ask questions about his tests. Only he started to speak first. We spoke about school and how he hated Brookland and had been bullied badly there. The next day he talked of his bone marrow biopsy. Alex has leukaemia. He has just started his high dosage chemotherapy to kill off his cancerous white blood cells. I have visited several times at Great Ormond Street Hospital, where he is a full time patient until Christmas. I hope you will join me to pray for Alex. He is very weak and in pain, although he is very good at hiding it. Alex, himself, requests you pray for all the sick children, especially Darius, who is 7 and very ill. Thank you."

...

Sabina put her article on survival rates in childhood leukaemia down and looked at the dim cabin, her reading light one of the few still lit. She should sleep, otherwise she would look not look her best in five hours when they landed. She was nervous and excited. She had emailed Alex three and four times a day over the past two weeks. He spoke of tests, the hot weather and working hard on school coursework for GCSE's. He was determined to excel despite being ill. He spoke positively of everyone on Elephant Ward, a place Alex said he had left his past demons behind and had embraced a holistic approach of talking, not hiding, gentle exercise and actually listening and being a good boy. He had put life on hold, because he had really needed a good reexamination of his life choices to date. Getting well, was putting himself first.

The tall slim young woman stretched and in doing so her medical dicionary and stack of photocopied medical articles fell into the aisle, to be picked up by the thirty something man across from her. "Heavy reading. Are you at med school?"

"Oh, no. Senior year at high school in the fall. I'm going back to London to visit my best friend, who is in hospital in London. He has cancer. I miss him so much and I feel so helpless and he is so positive and finally he dumped all his slacker attitudes and embraced goals and strategies for the future. It like he's already decided in six months he will be cancer free and in remission. No doubts, he wants to plan his 16th birthday party and everything."

"Are you planning on college?"

"Oh, yes. I was all for Harvard, but now I think I'll try for Oxford." Sabina had six months to apply and she had decided coming back to England was the right thing to do. She put her papers away and put the chair into recline. She had decided to nap

"Both are great places to study. Go to Harvard and be a Rhodes scholar then you can do both." The man smiled and shook his head thinking about being 15/16, when you could be absolutely positive about things. The girl beautiful and quite asleep, she must have been shattered.

Somehow, Sabina had expected grey skies and cool damp familiarity but London was hot and sweaty. Edward could not negotiate stairs or long periods of standing, and a car had been booked with driver. They arrived at the house in Bloomsbury only a short walk from the British Museum, University College London and Great Ormond Street. Within walking distance of Oxford Street, Leicester Square and even the City.

Sabina wanted to go to the hospital straight away, but it was lunch and Liz wanted to freshen up. At 3pm the Pleasures were buzzed into the ward.

Alex was in the zone, he had physics on a roll. All it had taken was half an hours explanation from Mr. Danesh, Darius' father. The man had explained Newton's laws of motion so simply that even Alex could understand. Next topic was radioactivity. At this pace Alex might be happy to do science A'Levels. He was listening to Handel and was completely unaware of any visitors. He knew the Pleasures were flying over but sensible people dealt with the annoying jetlag. Alex liked the fact both Sabina and Liz always were perfectly turned out. How, Edward landed such a fox Alex did not know. He was only sure he was way out of Sabina's league. That girl would end up marrying some billionaire who would sped his life catering to her every whim.

Alex then noted pair of purple ballet pumps to his right, attached to impossibly long, slim legs. He jumped up, remembering to steady his drip stand and he hugged her for all he was worth.


	6. Chapter 6

Sabina took a moment to look around Room 4. There were a handful of drawings obviously done by the other girls and boys on the ward decorating the walls. No posters of football stars or pop groups, but popular culture had stopped being relevant to Alex a long time ago. His life had been a fight for survival since Ian died.

On the door was an angel, drawn in anime style, by Alex she guessed. It looked like Jack had got her wings but was holding onto the halo as if unsure what to do with it, His guardian was dressed in DM's, a mini skirt and distressed t-shirt. The wings stuck with bits of shiny paper. She then went to look at the timetable on the wall. A mix of ward activities, work time and exercise time. Next to it was a detailed revision timetable for year 10 work. It was so like her own work plan back in California.

Alex was laid on his bed, sleeping. Overtired in his efforts to keep up with his visitors for the past three days, as he was entertaining and a good host. Sabina then went to the family lounge to make some tea. She was joined by Marian. "I spoke to your parents last night, give Alex a day off tomorrow and let him rest. As you can see he's knackered. Go visit your other friends, relax and enjoy yourself. I think Alex will spend most of today and tomorrow sleeping. He is very good at guessing his energy levels, he is active, which is a plus, but we would like him to vary his eating a bit more. He's a fussy one about eating. Normally he picks sandwiches and salad. The only hot meals he takes are soup, burgers and pizza."

"He loves pasta."

"He ordered it once and not again. Anyway he's maintaining his weight, sleeping regularly and being an excellent patient. I'm waiting for it all to go pear shaped when his teenage hormones come into play. He's articulate, cheerful and helpful. A real joy to look after."

"I still can't believe he has not done anything impulsive or completely crazy since he's been here." Sabina stated pouring out the tea. It was one of the reasons she had befriended Alex at Wimbledon last year. He had been all out, confident, completely sure of himself. Jack's death seemed to have erased that from his personality when he was in California. Her best friend and she did acknowledge that her friendship with Alex had survived the most trying situations including her own complete disbelief over MI6. Here, Alex was mature, determined and controlled. He was more mature than her last three boyfriends. She wondered on dating, but Alex had made no overtures since those few experimental kisses last year. By Christmas both were happy to be just great friends, they still flirted and were attracted but Alex had ways to go before dating she reckoned. Too much hurt and mistrust to connect with anyone new. Sabina was dying to meet Cary, who was away on a residential course this week. Was it just friendship or the spark of something more, Alex was not giving anything away.

Marian sipped her cup of earl grey. "Well, two days before you came over he did go walkabout. He left the ward, but we just thought he was off to the shop downstairs or for a coffee. He gets restless, mostly after a nightmare, but we were busy with Darius and Lucie, the student placement, was on the desk and had told him not to bother her. He went downstairs, straight out of the main entrance, with his drip stand. Mr. Conway had alerted reception about Alex's wandering tendencies, and they rang up to say he'd left the building. We had alerted his social worker and the police but it turned out Melissa wanted an ice pop and we had run out. All Alex wanted to do was alert us, so more could be bought by the next available adult. I guess Alex is used to doing things himself, so he got his allowance and off he went to the supermarket around the corner, in pajamas, with his drip stand, but with gloves and a mask on. He, calm as anything, was stood in line to buy three boxes of ice poops and half a dozen cheap ice lollies, when the manager brought him back. Gave him the groceries pro gratis and just told Alex to ring over and they would arrange delivery next time."

"Thats so Alex. He chased after some mafia guy at Wimbledon. All to do with fixing the games and gambling cartels. So, he got into trouble for his shopping trip?"

"We laid down the law. Alex even wrote a thank you letter to the head office of the supermarket. Alex only went over the road because they sell boxes of ice pops at 10 for a pound and basic boxes of six ice lollies for £1.50. A mini-milk in the hospital shop was £1. He was just watching his pennies. His allowance does not go far downstairs."

...

Edward was sat in the offices of the Guardian, he had submitted three articles for publication, interviews with a politician, a musician and an author, none as interesting as Damian Cray or Desmond McCain. The holiday in Britain paid for by his freelance work. He was writing a book on the late journalist Harold Bulman. A liar, an opportunist, bent, shady and with no morals, that man made writing easy. His dishonourable discharge from the army was something that man had never advertised. The journalist's wife and daughter had chosen to spend the day shopping. Tomorrow they were flying home. He had a heavy heart over leaving Alex, but he would travel back in October and their Christmas vacation was already booked for three weeks in December and January. Edward had already cleared with Social Services for Alex to stay with them, if his health allowed.

He pondered that the Bank had left Alex alone, the journalist even wondered, if they even knew Alex was ill.

...

Monday the 2nd of September, Tom was back in Form 11C. Ms. Collins was his form teacher this year. He sat outside waiting to see if Alex would turn up for school, but he didn't. His name was not called out at registration. Maybe he'd been kept back a year, so Tom at lunch went to talk to the woman who knew everyone and everything about Brookland, the school secretary, Miss Bedfordshire.

"Good afternoon, Tom. Have a good summer?"

"Yeah, it was OK. Spent three weeks in Naples with Jerry, that was the best." Tom then scratched his head and asked in a low voice, not to be overheard. "Is Alex back this year? He's not in Form 11C."

"No Alex is not back, Mr. Bray thought Alex was a bad example, too much missed school. Did you not talk to him over the holidays?" Jane Bedfordshire had told Mr. Bray he had made a big mistake over Alex, one that would come back to haunt him. She had not told him that Alex was seriously ill. If the man had been at all interested in Alex he would have asked the Social Worker some questions, not just a straight no.

"Err, well, he called but I was annoyed with him. Basically told him off for not being a good friend. He did not visit me after that incident in June."

Miss Bedfordshire had seen every single one of Alex's so-called friend's drift away, now Tom Harris had joined them. Fair weather friends the lot of them. "Well, I'm sure Alex had other things to worry about." The woman turned back to her stack of filingand then said "I thought you were friends with James Hale now".

"Yeah, I suppose, I am." Tom could honestly say James and his 'look at me I'm great' attitude was beginning to wear a bit thin. He wandered off to the dining hall, considering Miss Bedfordshire was now ignoring him. Tom felt guilty, he'd been so caught up in his righteous anger he never considered that Alex was in a children's home and that for that to have happened Alex must have been taken away from Jack.

Tom got the 33 bus to check out Lockwood House. He looked at the large house. it wasn't so bad. Mind you Alex was ever so middle class. This was a massive drop in status, going from the splendor of Cheyne Walk to the bottom o the heap in one move. He summoned all his courage, it had taken him weeks to admit he missed Alex. Only Alex had not called back begging forgiveness, had not popped around and had not been seen around their usual haunts. It was like Alex wasn't back in Chelsea at all. Tom wanted to know where Jack was. Alex told him everything, only he had not let Alex explain, he'd only been interested in his own pity party. Tom realised he'd been acting as shallow and self centred as James Hale.

A girl about eight answered the door, who then screamed "Mike?".

"Hi, I'm Mike, Head Careworker, Cary's not in I'm afraid."

"Err, no. I'm looking for Alex. Alex Rider. We went to Brookland together. Only he's not there this year. Err, was he transfered to St. Anthony's?" Tom hoped not, that school in Fulham was their nemesis, beating them hands down in the league tables for results and sports. Even in Football, since Alex had been dropped from the team.

"Alex isn't living here any more. I'll give you his social worker's number. I can't just give you his details, procedures you know. Get your mum or dad to call, OK. He wasn't here long, but we all liked him".

"Oh, is he back living with Jack, err Jack Starbright?" Tom was a bit pissed having traipsed all this way for Alex to be back living at Cheyne Walk.

Mike looked a bit unsure of himself "Err, I'm sorry, but Jack died in June in Cairo. Alex is currently a Ward of the Council's. Talk to Jeff Mather's Ok."

Tom walked slowly back towards the King's Road, not wanting to go home or to hang out and play football. He noticed a girl in the blue blazer and plaid skirt of the Convent School of Sacred Heart. She was headed for Lockwood, only she spotted the boy in the scruffy Brookland uniform. The kids at Lockwood went to St. Anthony's as a rule. She and Alex had been exceptions.

"Hey handsome, looking for Alex Rider?"

"Yeah, got a load of bull from Mike about calling some social worker?"

"Well, Tom, I take it you are Tom Harris. Alex is not due back until January."

"Christ, he really did something stupid and get sent to Young Offender's Detention Centre then."

"NO, oh no, Alex is living in Central London. In an exclusive location in Bloomsbury."

"Errr.. right. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sixth floor, Variety Club Building, Great Ormond Street Hospital, Elephant Ward. Go see you bud, he's been in for a month, and is a bit down at the moment."

"Thanks."

"Right, See you round, Harris."


	7. Chapter 7

Tom watched Carey retreat down the road towards her temporary home. He was in two minds; he could to go home, eat dinner and ignore his mother like every other evening, or actually clear the air and see what was happening with Alex. In June, Tom had been in hospital overnight. He even got to stay in Room 8 at St. Dominic's. His first stay in hospital since he'd been born. Alex practically made that room his own last year. Now Alex was a long term patient at Great Ormond Street. Tom knew they only took serious cases. His mind made up and so he stomped towards the tube station.

It was nearly seven pm, on a Monday evening. Tom ignored everyone on his journey, with the practiced ease of one born and brought up in London. He got to the ward but the door was locked. A tall black nurse with a badge stating his name was 'Damian', let Tom in.

"OK, who are you after?" The man enquired softly but with a face as impassive as stone.

Tom was a bit worried, the guy was very intimidating considering he was a nurse at a children's hospital. Then again he bet all the patients went to sleep on time and never asked for a story. "Err.. Alex... Alex Rider."

"He's playing a Game Boy Marathon with Melissa. Probably loosing again. He should know by now that girl always wins at Super Mario Cart. Three doors down on the left." The guy tilted his head down the ward and then returned to his desk, as the guardian of this kingdom for the night shift. To be truthful, Tom had not liked his short stay in St. Dominic's. He could not imagine spending weeks or months in hospital.

The dark haired teen stood in the doorway and watched the two kids sat on the cushions with their back to the door, a young girl and an older boy. The angelic waif-like girl with only wisps of blond hair on her head, stated as bold as brass "Dead again, Alex. You really are useless at this." Melissa looked around to take in the teenager who had entered their domain. "Friend of yours?" Tom's eyes were on his friend as Alex had also turned to look at the visitor. Alex with his dark brown eyes, but his blond hair was reduced to long tufts interspaced with patches of scalp, his face impossibly pale and his skin with the waxy look of the seriously ill.

Alex appraised Tom Harris and decided to play the politeness card. "Yes, Melissa Carston-Wright, meet Tom Harris." Alex said.

"Err... Hi, Melissa." Tom was still stood in the door, it was a classic Mexican stand off. Where to start? Admit being an arse over his stupid hurt feelings, which had just been reduced to petty self centred-ness on a colossal scale.

The young girl noted the tension between the two boys and excused herself with "My dad should be here soon. See you guys later."

Tom moved to let the girl escape. "Hanging out with ten year olds now, Rider?"

"Melissa is twelve. She's petite, like her mother." Alex decided to break the ice with refreshments. "Come on I have some coke and some microwave popcorn in the kitchen. I have other snacks if you're hungry?"

"Starved, not had dinner."

"Right, come on."

Alex closed the door on his room. Tom went straight to the chair to sit, but did not start eating the snacks placed there. Alex got in the bed and opened his can of coke. The silence was heavy and oppressive.

"What happened to Jack?" Tom asked in a soft anxious whisper, afraid to know the truth.

"We went to Cairo, I was enrolled in the American High School there. I even began to like school again, because there I wasn't treated like a pariah. Anyway, its best to start at the beginning. Scorpia never forgives and never forgets. A guy called Zeljan Kurst had taken over and I was still a major embarrassment to them, especially after that Australian business. It all revolved around them getting hold of my doppelgänger, my Grief Clone, who Blunt had stashed at a detainment facility on Gibraltar. The plan was for the clone to assassinate the American Secretary of State, blaming me for it. Scorpia laid a trap and Blunt fell into it. A plot based at that school in Cairo, so needed a teen agent in place, only I was officially off limits. The whole shooting incident was to force me back into MI6 hands. You got hurt to force me back to them. Jack threw a spanner in the works, she insisted on going with me. It all went completely pear shaped then. I was crippled by guilt because my fuck ups had caused you to get hurt. Then Jack and I were kidnapped in Cairo by a Scorpia sicko called Rahzim. He was the former chief torturer for Saddam Hussein in Iraq. The sick bastard played with us, he killed Jack to hurt me, that was my punishment for betraying Scorpia." Alex croaked at that point, not wanting to cry but unable to stop the tears leaking from his eyes. "I can still see the explosion. It haunts my dreams." Alex then spoke of his escape, killing Julius and the CIA mopping up operation. "I've left out loads, but thats basically what happened. I was sent back to London and I sat in St. Dominic's but refused to talk to the shrink. Blunt was retired, I think in disgrace. Jones took over with Crawley as her deputy. Not a fact that filled me with any confidence. They are both cut from the same cloth as Blunt. I had no doubt they would use me again. It was all so clear after Jack died, I was a pawn for everyone, but they had lost their main lever for blackmailing me. Jack was dead. Only now they had used my close friendship with you against me. So, thats why I did not call at the end of June. Jones had arranged for me to be fostered by Sabina's family and I went along with it."

Tom thought for a moment, "You just put Sabina in danger. You're full of shit, Rider."

Alex full of anger fueled by his hurt over Tom's complete rejection over the fact Alex had been backed into a corner by MI6. "I didn't plan on staying. I was going to run as soon as I had enough funds. The US, hell the whole of America, is huge. I do speak excellent spanish. I stole wallets on days out with the Pleasure's. I picked my marks, loud stupid and rich. Most were stupid enough to actually have their pin numbers in their wallets as well. On the internet, you can find out which ATM's have no security cameras. I planned ahead. Took out the maximum amount, stashed the cash and then lost the evidence. No need of the cards after I'd taken out my cash. I was going to run when I had $10,000 in readies. I planned on reaching my target by the end of August. Only I started to feel ill." Alex took a sip of coke. His face hard and haggard. He was telling Tom his dirty secrets, that he planned all along to leave everything behind, Tom, Sabina, London, everything he had ever known to be a non-person. "Last summer, you know Sarov and the bomb in Murmansk. I was exposed to a large dose of radiation. I never told you about the decontamination, that was so embarrassing, forced to strip and getting scrubbed down my four middle aged women. The doctor there, Maria Ivanova was very blunt and very factual over precisely what damage that amount of radiation could do to a child. Russia has lots of experience with that after Chernobyl. So, I got to San Francisco and my bruises did not fade. I had a low persistent fever. I knew my health was fucked and Edward had no medical insurance for me. I came back and here I am." Alex then looked at Tom. "I tried to protect you, by running I was going to protect Sabina, but my leukaemia changes everything. I'm no use to anyone anymore. Look, you said your piece six weeks ago. I'm bad news and a crap friend. You are better off without me. You're so right, you are."

Alex stopped talking to allow Tom a moment to let all that sink in. The fact was Alex had been alienated to the point, nothing mattered. He had no future. He only existed in the moment. The past was just pain, so was the present, what was the difference. He got out of bed and went to the toilet. Fully expecting Tom to be gone when he returned to bed.

Tom tried to put himself in Alex's shoes, his own grief over Jack was overwhelming. In the three months before Alex had disappeared to Cairo, Tom had practically lived at Cheyne Walk. He had preferred it there to the empty house with a mother, who dated creeps, and the monumental hole left by his absent father who had moved out and forgotten he had a son. Only Jack and Alex had left without a word, forcing him back home to the strange situation of his parents both there under a temporary truce, because he'd been hurt. His dad had left again just before Alex had phoned In July. His shit life was nothing compared to Al's. Tom noted the picture of Jack and Alex on the bedside table. Anger burned in his gut over those bastards who had ruined Alex's life, gotten Jack killed and who had messed up his life as well.

Alex came back into his bedroom. Tom looked beyond sad in the hard seat by the bed. "Its late, you need to get home. Get reception to call you a taxi." Alex went to his bedside cabinet and pulled out two twenty pound notes, his ill gotten gains still in his possession. Money was one thing Alex did not have to worry about. "Here, taxi fare. Go on, your mum will be worried and I'm surprised Damian has not be in to throw you out. Its nearly 10."

Tom continued to sit. "Blunt got me shot. Fuck it Al, do they know you're ill?"

"Smither's knows but he no longer works for the Bank. I sent him a couple of postcards." Alex did not tell Tom, he had written one after each course of chemo finished, during the respite filled with tests and transfusions.

"Carey said you'd be here until January."

Alex should have known it was Cary who'd pointed Tom in the right direction. "Look Tom, here's the deal. I get painkillers every day, just to be able to move about. The pain, its always there. My bones, my chest ache, deep, never ending throbs, sometimes its so sharp, it takes my breath away. Thats my body fighting itself. Then the chemo makes me feel shit. Two courses a month, eight in total. By December they'll see if the cancer is in remission, my bone marrow will then produce normal cells again. I'm young, fit and strong. I keep active here, to keep my body functioning. I should, be fine. I then have another three courses of chemo, its called induction to stop the cancer returning. Then I get out of hospital. Return to school with monthly blood tests to keep an eye on things. Thats the best case scenario, I might need another full course of chemo, if I still have abnormal blood. Only the high dosage chemo might kill off my bone marrow. Then I will need a transplant. Thats another six to twelve months here."

"Why the hair? It looks freaky."

Alex's hair fell out in chunks when he brushed or washed it. His bedding covered in long blond strands. "My pubes, leg and under arm hair fell out first. Completely exfoliated of body hair, but no one sees that. Fell out in the shower after my first full course of chemo was finished. My hair is getting bad. I know I should just get my head shaved, but its like Alex nil, cancer 4 at the moment. I do my katas every morning. I concentrate my chi, to be positive, to be well, but its been hard not to look in the mirror and just see the illness and the side effects of the treatment."

"Are you sick? Err, vomiting?" Tom thought about what little he did know about chemotherapy.

"I have, they give you drugs to stop that. I only eat certain things to stop feeling nauseous. Nothing spicy or too greasy."

"Christ, sounds like the sandwich diet Jack favoured."

"Hey, I liked what Jack prepared, I daren't call it cooking." Alex knew anything beyond boiling rice or pasta failed in spectacular fashion. "Carey baked the ginger biscuits. They are my favourite snack." Alex paused and then commanded "Go home, Tom. We both have school tomorrow."

"You have school here?"

"Yeah, the tutor even likes me, well I only met her today. Clarissa teaches all the secondary kids here. I have a full study plan, courtesy of Cary. That girl is a fantastic tutor and her rates are reasonable."

"She charges you?"

"I help her with french, so quid quo pro. Its GCSE year, you can't slack off now." Alex smiled, knowing Tom was not academic at all and hated each second spent at school, only football made it bearable.

Tom had noted the revision timetable on the wall and the notes and coursework in neatly labelled folders. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Alex?"


	8. Chapter 8

Tom arrived home at 10:49, way after his supposed curfew for a school night. His mother appeared in the hall, angry and upset, already dressed for bed. "Where have you been? Your dinner's ruined. Why did you not phone? You know better than to be out all hours on a school night."

Tom was utterly spent by the numb realisation that Jack had gone, was dead and was never going to burn things again, or tell bad jokes or moan about her lack of decent boyfriends. He stood looking completely lost at his mother, "Have you ever acted like a complete tit?" He felt that meeting Alex had not resolved anything, his friend had moved on. His illness and getting well was his game plan. He could cut to slack for those not in on his goals. Alex may have left Tom for altruistic reasons, but now he had no margins for such generosity. Alex's world was that ward at Great Ormond Street, his goals were studying, keeping fit and the goal of in remission by christmas.

"What's happened, beautiful?" His mother asked knowing something was very wrong with her son.

"Jack Starbright died in early July. I only just found out. She and Alex had moved, now he's in care. He phoned me in at the end of July but I basically told him to bugger off. He did not even argue, just put the phone down. He was.. is.. should be my best friend. Shit mum, its really bad."

"So, I guess he's in a children's home then." Brenda Harris thought there was very little chance of a boy like Alex getting fostered or adopted.

"Its worse than that. Alex is ill, very ill. Might die ill. Leukaemia. He's in hospital at Great Ormond Street. Long term cancer ward. His hair's fallen out, he pale and thin, looks bloody awful. He's all alone and I've been bitching to James about you and dad, but I have parents. Alex has no one, not even me." Tom wanted to cry, unable to contain the loss, guilt and conflicting emotions, so he dealt with it the only way he could. "I'm going to bed."

Brenda went in to wake her son before work the next morning only to find his bed empty. At least he was wearing his school uniform. The newly divorced forty something could almost bet she could be getting a phone call from school today about Tom. Her youngest child was not a good student academically but he was a regular one, with a perfect attendance record.

...

Alex's notes stated he'd had a bad night. Two bad nightmares and the boy at 4am had gone to wander the halls, to try and cure his restlessness. He'd been back in the desert, powerless, at the mercy of their 'host', Jack convinced she had a way out. Every moment up until her death a complete horror story with Alex going over each and every decision knowing the the inevitable ending. He sat and ate half a slice of toast for breakfast but wasn't surprised when he puked it up. Being upset seemed to make everything worse. While everyone on ward was eating, Alex went to the small ward outside play area and went through his katas. The routine was calming, mental and physical strength as one. He normally kept it fairly sedate, not to push his physical limits. This morning he moved fluidly into kicks, punches and lunges. He finished and collapsed on the mat covered in sweat, more tired than he had ever been in his life before. He had needed that control, to prove he was still Alex. He was not superman, he was not invincible, he was a fifteen year old boy. He bitterly knew the price of failure, but Jack's death was not his failure. He had talked to the psychologist assigned to him, mostly about his grief for Jack, but also his conflicted feelings for Yassen and Ian. He still felt betrayed by Ian and a strange kinship to the Russian assassin. Yassen had loved and respected his father, a father Alex had grown to know as a player, a liar, a cheat, only one who tried to redeem Yassen and had loved his wife above all his games.

Alex was cold, the weather had turned grey and damp. He went inside to talk to Marian.

The woman took one look at the shivering teen and exclaimed "OMG, Alex baby, get a hot shower and then straight back into bed. You look cold and exhausted."

"Umm, Marian, queen of my heart, can you get the shrink to pop in today, I need to discuss some stuff."

"OK, sweetie, Do you need some tea and biscuits?"

"That would be lovely... err green tea. My stomach is going flips this morning."

...

Mrs. Rebecca Hale was on her off day. It was 8:15 and both her children had already left for school, when the doorbell rang. On the step was her son's friend, Tom Harris.

"Morning Tom. You've missed James. He's already on his way to school."

Tom looked a bit embarrassed. "Err, can I talk to you about Alex? I've guessed he was your patient at Lockwood."

"Figured it out did you. Well, good for you. I take it James is still in the dark?"

"Well, yeah." Tom really wanted the low down on Alex's condition. "I visited Alex last night. I know you're not meant to give out information, but is he going to die?"

"Come on in, I'll make you a cup of tea and give you the general outline."

Brenda looked at the teenager who normally kept his conversations with her to hello and goodbye. "So, how is Alex? He was defensive and a bit hostile in July. I never realised what a jerk James could be, but he's just like my brother, Sean. So, it does run in the family."

"Err, he was tired. He sounded lost, to tell you the truth. I guess getting sick after Jack dying was just too much. I was a complete jerk to him as well. I can understand him giving me the brush off. We talked but I could tell Alex was not giving an inch. He said he could not afford being let down. Sabina has been there for him 100%, so has his new friend at Lockwood, err Cary. How do I make up for being so selfish and idiotic?"

"Be there for him. So you did not want a clinical outlook but a reality check on being a good friend?"

"Is he going to die?"

"Its not a black and white situation. His cancer is serious, but not terminal. It was caught early. He should be cancer free by christmas, but he could catch a cold, or get an infection and die tomorrow, as his immune system is not functioning at all. The cancer could also spread and then be life threatening. Nothing is certain. Alex's prognosis is also dependant on a possitive attitude and keeping himself fit, active and not giving in. He is in the middle of a tough battle, so him not being there for you is a fact of life. You really have to decide can you be there for him, no excuses, no let downs and no petty tantrums." Rebecca looked at the clock. "Come on I'll drop you off at school, just tell your teacher you forgot something and went home to get it. I fancy a chat with Jane anyway."

"Jane?" Tom wondered which teacher was called Jane.

"Miss Bedfordshire. We talk at PTA meetings and WI."

"Oh, right. Thanks for the chat and doubl thanks for the lift. I think my mum would skin me alive for missing school."

...

Clarissa Marx walked into Elephant ward to find her three students were all in Alex's room, ready for their lesson to start. Melissa and Ed sat on a bean bags, with their books, notes and pencils already out. Alex was in bed, looking like death warmed up. Lesson with a hospital tutor were an hour a day on various core topics. Yesterday had been Maths/ICT, tomorrow was English. Thursday Languages and Friday humanities and citizenship.

"Morning all, I can leave it until next week, Alex; if you're having a bed day."

Melissa smiled and stated "He's puked twice already and I bet he falls asleep anyway. We are discussing science today and Alex has a bunch of questions."

Alex sipped his tea before getting his queries in. "Morning Miss C. I need an idea on what the hell I do about practicals. Do I just get all my theory done now and hope I'm back at school next term, but thats a big 'if', considering I still do not have a school place."

"Ok Alex, theory and your project are a must to finish. You may need to defer your exams if you do not have enough practicals. I see your grade from Brookland last year was a E, not great."

"I spent my lesson's talking with Tom. I hated school last year and now I really miss it, go figure. Maybe I can get Melissa and Ed to start hazing and bullying me and then school here will be just like Brookland."

"You were bullied?"

"Yeah, the teachers did nothing because I was a lost cause."

"Really, you are bright, articulate and your work excellent." Clarissa had seen the boys files yesterday during their introduction and assessment.

"I worked all summer redoing last years assignments. I want A's or B's. I want to prove that I can the student Jack wanted me to be. She had faith in my abilities. Now, I have to deliver." Alex then picked up his pad and pen, "OK I thought a project was for triple science only."

"I have assessed your notes and projected grades to place you in the top stream, Alex. I want a project completed by Halloween. You can choose either physics, chemistry or biology; but something touching on all three would get higher marks."

Alex lay back and thought about his own aborted trip to space. "Radiation risks in space travel, how about that?"

"Unusual, do you want to be an astronaut?"

"No, I want to be a manager at McDonald's." Alex said with a straight face. The only thing he knew for sure was the army and MI6 were definitely out.

"Really. OK. Alex has a project to start. Ed, Melissa, lets get started on Year 8 Biology."

...

Jane Bedfordshire smiled as Rebecca Hale came into the school office. "Time for a cup of coffee?" Miss Bedfordshire had her own cafeteire and brought in her own blend of ground coffee for special visitors. Rebecca had been a student in sixth form, when Jane had started as school secretary. They had remained in touch over the years, now they were close friends.

"Always, I brought my apple slices." The nurse held up a small tupperware box.

The two women sat on the sofa in the reception area. Guaranteed peace and quite until 10:30 at first break.

"So, I had Tom Harris visit me this morning. He knows about Alex. I think it was Cary who told him to go to visit him in hospital."

"I guessed as much, Tom came and asked about Alex yesterday. How did the visit go?"

"I think Tom has to decide whether he wants an easy ride, just being friends with the football team here or going out on a limb and being there for Alex. Its his decision, I think Alex told him as much yesterday. Alex is on his own journey, with or without Tom." Rebecca Hale sipped her coffee. "Will you ever tell me what you put in your coffee blend? Its so perfect."

"You know its my secret blend. It ensures you come back to visit, if only for a decent cup of java."


	9. Chapter 9

Tuesday's saw Tom drowning in the usual boring monotony of school. Last lesson of the day was RS. One lesson he really saw no point to. He decided to skip class, he really had better things to do than sit though that hour of pointless discussion. He was stood outside the main gates at the Convent school waiting for Cary at 3:40. She came out with her two best friends and stopped to stare at the dark haired boy, then telling her friends she'd talk later.

"So, Tom Harris, isn't this enemy territory?" Cary said with a smile. Normally Sacred Heart girls here dated boys from Brompton Oratory

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, very aware he was being scrutinesed by every girl who passed. "Err, no not really. I wanted to talk to you about Al."

"Well, I have a tutorial booked at 4:30, lets get the No. 7 bus and we can talk on they way."

Tom looked at the brown haired girl who looked like her plans were set in stone. He wondered on the tutorial, but the number 7 went from Hammersmith to central London, right to Russell Square, a short walk from Great Ormond Street. Tom paid for both their bus fares, trying to act like a gentleman. He had money in his pocket to pay Alex back for the taxi fare. Tom was still undecided on his whether just to walk away, as Alex had said, it would be easier to do that.

Cary sat and chatted using the close proximity to observe Alex's only friend from Brookland Comprehensive. Her friend's descriptions of Tom Harris did not do that boy justice; but then again her friend had said very little about his life before his arrival at Lockwood House. She had heard snippets about Tom, Ian, Jack and his previous foster family, the Pleasures; but Tom was more serious and not the joker she expected.

They chatted about neutral things during the bus journey, Tom proved to be a good listener and he also told his travel companion a short description about his own fraught home life.

Tom finally asked about his one concern over Cary's relationship with Alex after they got off the No. 7 bus at Russell Square. "Are you and Al dating?"

"I don't think I'm his type." She said diplomatically of the teenage boy, who had shown no interest in staring at her amble bosom like most fifteen year olds. "He's a good friend. He does not judge or have hang ups about me having goals, wanting to be the best I can be. Basically, he treats me as an equal and respects me even though I'm smart. Most guys resent that, just wanting a giggling, sex symbol to date."

Tom looked confused "So he's still dating Sabina then?"

Cary shook her head and then confused Tom even more "Sabina is his sister, another good friend. I don't think Alex is up to dating. Give him time to grieve. He is in the process of finding himself and getting well first."

"So, are you waiting for Al to ask you out?"

"No. Blondie's not my type." Cary then put Tom out of his misery. "I prefer my men tall, dark and handsome. I, however, go to an all girls school. I do not socialise much outside of class, so as a result have had precisely two boyfriends, both of whom proved to be completely hopeless. Better be single than dating a tosspot. No matter the fact some girls seem to think you are a non person unless you are attached. I have no expectations of ever being popular at school." Cary had a few friends at school and was happy among the outcasts.

Tom shrugged "Well, I don't get the girls at Brookland. They all flock around James Hale like he's Mr. Handsome and laughed at that guys jibes and criticisms of everyone." James used to be an OK guy, back in Year 9, now he was king bully and Tom had been reduced to a mere minion.

...

Alex was asleep when Cary sat down, happy to wait for him to wake and Tom went in search of a second chair. The dark haired boy cringed as he scrapped the borrowed chair across the linoleum floor, waking the patient up.

"Fuck, what time is it?" were the first words out of Alex's mouth.

"4:52pm, sleeping beauty." Cary added

"Right which one of you is my true love's kiss?" Alex said grumpily as he poured himself a beaker of water.

"Not me sunshine, must be Tommy over there." Cary quipped.

"Don't call me Tommy or Thomas, OK. Just Tom!" said the less than happy other visitor.

Alex feeling a bit more awake then quipped "His brother's called Jerry by the way."

"Tom and Jerry? That's unusual." Cary was trying not to giggle at the pun.

"Shut up you two. No ganging up on me. I brought your money back, Al." Tom tried to glare at the girl, but she found his attempts at stern even funnier.

"You didn't have to. I bet your mum was still pissed at your very late arrival home."

"She was. Funny, I lived at your place for three months while she was dating Warren and she never said a word about where I was or what I was doing."

"Thats 'cause Jack called her every day to let her know you were still breathing." Alex rubbed his face and got up and stretched. "Spag bol for supper. Thought I chance some hot food tonight for a change. Look Cary, can we raincheck on the French conversation tonight, do a double on Friday? I feel like death warmed up."

"Sure thing. My french teacher has already praised my improved vocabulary and accent."

Alex finished stretching his muscles and then turned to appraise his two friends, tryng to figure out if the two of them arriving together was a significant event or just a coinicidence. The again Alex really did not believe in coincidences just really bad luck. He lamely asked "Want to watch a DVD or is it homework club?"

Tom looked at his bulging bag but made no move to open it. "I really need to get started with some homework, but first I need to get 'us' sorted Alex."

Cary then stood and said softly "I better excuse myself then. I'll be in the parent's lounge, when you two are finished." She closed the door as she left to give them some privacy.

Alex then burst out laughing. " 'Us?' Oh God, Tom. She's thinks we're a bloody couple. I take it you two travelled together on the way over here."

Tom's mouth hung open for a moment in shock and he shut it with a snap, getting his thoughts together. "I only asked her, if you two were an item."

"Cary's very astute. She assumed I batted for the other team straight off. Well, thinking of a girl as hot as Sabina as a sister is a dead give away." Alex then broke into a crooked smile. "You must have sounded jealous for her to think we're more than friends."

Tom was not seeing the funny side of this at all. "Are we friends? We've both acted like strangers all summer. You have an excuse, in fact several excuses. I was just pissed I got dumped back with my psycho parent's. What am I complaining about, at least my mother is no longer dating Warren."

Alex went up to Tom and knelt down next to him, holding on to his friend's hands to comfort and reassure him. "You're entitled to feel pissed Tom. You're still right to be pissed at me, but talking about Jack yesterday was hard for me. I even spoke to the shrink here this afternoon, about it. Maybe you need to talk it over with someone. I daren't suggest your mother, but maybe Jerry." Alex then thought about Mrs. Harris, who had been a decent mother before her marriage went sour. "Then again, you should build some bridges with your mum. She's not so bad. She can cook. She tidies your room and does your laundry. Don't treat her like the enemy, when the enemy is clearly the jerks she brings home. I have lots of experience in that area. In eight years, Jack had precisely two decent boyfriends. She always complained the nice guys were either married or gay. Your mum is now entering that world. Expect a wide variety of creeps, probably all of Jack's rejects."

Tom looked at Alex, who was wisely offering friendly advice. "So you set off Cary's gaydar. Do you think I did?"

"No worries in that department, Tom. Are you still mooning over Lorraine McIntyre and Tia Robson?"

"Well, yeah. Neither will even talk to me."

"Ahh, remember Year Seven. You got both of them with fun slime. You did it because you liked them, but I bet they did not see it like that. Start with a apology for being a jerk at the age of 11. Build up a repartee. That's how you get girs to talk to you."

Tom frowned, "I talked alright with Cary, this afternoon."

"Then ask her out on a date. Don't you think convent school girls are hot?"

"How can you be gay if you keep checking out girls?"

"I may check out girls, but thats it. I'm not about to start dating anyone soon. I still need some serious head shrinking over my issues about Yassen. I told you he confessed that he loved me, just before he died. It wasn't as a son or a best friend. It was the real deal, Romeo and Juliet type of love and its taken me a year to realise it. So, Tom. There you go, I might date girls or I might date boys. I have monumental issues over my self image, even before I got sick. I don't think I'm the type of guy who will settle down, get married, have 2 kids. I really have no idea about sex and relationships, I've spent too long just keeping my head above water to figure anything out yet, but you my friend need to get laid."

Alex stood up and sighed. He had his blood results through and was getting two units of plasma tomorrow. Then more tests, before his next round of chemo. "So, hanging out with Hale is a chore, huh?"

"The guy's got an ego the size of the planet Jupiter. I have been spending way too much time with him. Time to branch out, further afield than Brookland anyway. I may even try out for the local Youth Club Football team" Tom then looked at Alex, wondering how he knew he was hanging out with the enemy. "How'd you know I was hanging with Hale this summer?"

"His mother has been by to visit a couple of times, when she's in town. When I get back to being an outpatient, next year, I'll be seeing a lot more of her. She's the specialist young person's Macmillian nurse for West London. I think there's events, meetings as well as the home visits. Its all about a support network. Part of a five year outpatient programme. Only after my twenty-first birthday will I be officially a cancer survivor."

That revelation of long term plans made Tom's mind up for him. He knew Hale would be the type to get great exam results without trying, go to uni and leave all the losers at Brooklnad far behind. Alex would always be a friend, even after he'd been to space, hung out with the army or settle half way across the world. Alex may disappear, but he'd have a damn good excuse for leaving. "Got any coke left?"

"A few cans. Keep the forty quid, Tom. I'll text you if I need supplies. Never buy anything in the hospital shop, the mark up is outrageous. The food's OK here, if you keep to sandwiches and salads. If I ask for tea, for God's sake get Twinings or Lyon's loose leaf. Earl Grey, Darjeeling or a named blend if poss. No Typhoo or PG Tips."

"God, you snob Al. OK, I'll be your shopping bitch. I'll bring in some good old fashioned horror DVD's this weekend. I even promised to do my homework. I've crashed enough of you time with Cary. We can speak bad French for the next half hour. I only took it last year because you were. I really need some help to pass anything."

"Welcome to the Elephant Ward GCSE revision club. Just, hang out with Cary. She's the queen of organisation. Get a planner, stick to revision updates. Use the internet resources. Redo your coursework to bring up your grades. Aim high. Arrange it around football practice and games. Let me know how we do, though. I'm still rooting for Brookland. I may even get to spectate after Christmas."

"Watch us lose more like. The jerk in charge of Sports made Hale captain this year, because of his better grades. We are going down so bad. Hale puts his friends into play and leaves out decent players who don't fit into his social climbing network."

"Well, keeping sweet with your team captain is an easy choice to make. Keep friends with James and get to play in every game."

"Right, I want to punch him half the time. Come on lets go start with the French oral exam." Tom had his usual wicked grin on his face as he leaned forward and kissed Alex. The quick peck on the lips coincided with Marion entering the room

"Oh excuse me!"

Alex then hugged Tom, whispering in his ear "Way to go Harris. I think we've just been outed as a couple. Marion will gossip about that to everyone in the whole hospital"

Cary rolled about the sofa with laughter after hearing about the mock kiss going completely viral.

Alex was well aware of the looks between Cary and Tom. It was obvious they both liked each other. Alex was glad when his supper arrived, and Cary and Tom went back to Chelsea. He could bet by Friday, they would have a date organised. It was strange for Alex seemed to be experiencing normal life through his friends. The ward was a strange sort of limbo. Not a bad place to be, though. He really needed to get his life and his head sorted out. Alex, ever the realist, knew he would not, could not have just settled into school in either California or London, not after the roller coaster of the last eighteen months. This reality check was a way for him to sort himself out at his own pace. Being here, meant he could not get into scrapes, chase after any bad guys or get trapped in situations by the security services. Outside was irrelevant as he had nothing really to leave for.

...

Alex woke on Wednesday morning and wished he hadn't. He had a headache and his throat was sore. He was having a sick day, only he knew his t-cell count was low. It was 6:30 am and he buzzed through to the nurses' station.

"Sorry to bother you this early Marian but I have a headache and a sore throat."

"Well sugar, thats what you get for snogging your boyfriend. Lay back down. The doctor will be up to look at you."

Within 20 minutes, the Houseman was up for a poke and prescribing intravenous antibiotics and an oral decongestant. Noting Alex's enlarged tonsils and his slightly elevated temperature. Alex was confined to bed, full gowns, gloves and masks worn by all visitors and staff to avoid cross contamination. The doctor thought it was amusing Alex had probably caught it from tonsil hockey with Tom. Alex did not contradict or deny anything. Let the staff gossip. He was still getting transfused with his units of blood today. That and the saline drip would mean he'd be backwards and forwards to the toilet most of the day, cause of a full to bursting bladder. The infection was a slight one and unlikely to progress to anything more serious. Alex just had to follow orders and rest. The Ward hygiene would be on maximum for the next few days, so he would not see his fellow patients until he was cleared well enough. "Can I still do school work?"

"Of course, but rest if its too much."

Alex got his computer up and running to start his research radiation in space. He then decided to go straight to the horses mouth and sent email enquiries to ESA, NASA and the Russian Space Agency.

...

After a hectic six weeks settling into being the Head of Special Operations at MI6, Mrs. Tulip Jones finally had time for less urgent enquires. No. 5 on her personal to do list was to check up on Alex Rider. She had expected him to be in touch after his abrupt decision to return to London, when she had decided to hand his care over to the proper authorities. She had expected him to complain about being put into Care. She had wondered on his reasons for ending his foster placement with the Pleasures. She buzzed her secretary to check on the boy, just to see that he was settled back into school. She was also worried as Alex had not asked for any visits to a psychologist or psychiatrist. His attitude in July had been it was a complete waste of time, nothing would change the fact Jack was dead. Alex had shrugged off any concern for his own well being. He spoke in cold facts about the entire debacle in Egypt.

...

Mrs. Miranda Challander rang the number of the Social Worker assigned to Alexander John Rider. "Hello, I'm ringing to enquire about Alexander Rider on behalf of my employer, Mrs. Jones, who was a close colleague of Alexander's Uncle, Ian Rider."

Jeff Mathers needed no prompts or records check to remember the kid with leukaemia and answered straight away, he had just filed the very upbeat report from the hospital tutor. "Alex is doing as well as can be expected at this point. His tutor is happy with his educational progress. I suggest you ring Mr. Conway at University College Hospital to get his clinical outlook, but he is in early days of his treatment still, it won't be until late November we know if Alex is in remission or not."

"Ok, I take it Mr. Rider is still staying at Lockwood House?"

"No, he's been a patient at Great Ormond Street Hospital since July 29th. The next developmental meeting with the hospital is not due until the first week in December I suggest you ring then for an update." The Social Worker then put the phone down, a bit miffed at so called friends of the family only checking up on the kid two months down the line.

With the resources of the government security agency at hand, the secretary quickly access the medical records for Alexander John Rider, she read and then gasped "Oh my God..!"

She buzzed her boss straight away. "Mrs. Jones, I have something to show you concerning, Mr. Rider. I'm afraid he's in Hospital and his condition is quite serious."


	10. Chapter 10

After lunch, Alex had his blood pressure, oxygen saturation and temperature checked. He was placed on oxygen to prevent stress on his organs during the infection. He listened to the hiss from the canula under his nose and read through exams questions on MacBeth. He kept rereading the segment on the importance of Banquo in the play and fell asleep. He woke to see Marian by his bed, putting his books away.

"Huhh?" was grunted by the teenager as he jerked awake. Alex's throat was now raw and he really needed the bathroom, but Marian had brought in a bottle. He was glad of the gown for once.

He reached for the drink on his bedside cabinet. The cold water even hurt his throat.

Then Marian let Alex know the reason for her disturbing him. "You have some visitors. Very official looking. They're getting into gowns at the moment. I told then ten minutes only. Try not talk too much. Do not get upset. I find the best way of getting rid of unwanted guests is to pretend to fall asleep mid sentence and then play possum."

"Sneaky, I like it." Alex croaked.

"Umm, temperature still 99.5. I want that back to normal by tomorrow, OK, Mister."

"Yes Sir, Matron Sir!"

"Cheeky. I have the clock running. If they upset you I will boot them out."

Alex wondered if he looked worse than he felt. That was possibly true. The whole thing of visitors wearing full anti-infection kit was also pretty intimidating. Alex really could not be arsed being polite. He reached for his beaker of water and drank like a man dying of thirst.

Alex looked up to recognise the forbidding figures of Tulip Jones and John Crawley. He laid back and closed his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Alex." Tulip Jones stated in a soft tone.

Alex frowned, he could not smell peppermints, but he was pretty bunged up. "Hi, sorry. hurts to talk."

"Thats Ok, Alex. We just popped in to see if you needed anything?"

Alex smiled "Err, better drugs. Would like no pain. Apart from that its cool. I like it here."

"I'm glad you like it here. I spoke with Mr. Conway, he states you are a model patient."

Alex coughed trying to hide his laughter. "I still have my moments. I went shopping during my last course of chemo. They called the police while I was buying lollies."

John Crawley took in a thin, gaunt, extremely pale and balding teenager, rasping for each breath. "I saw you were doing your schoolwork."

"Fell asleep to Macbeth, just like at Brookland. The tutor here is lovely. Reminds me of Miss Bedfordshire. Probably the only good thing at that shithole."

"Would you like some magazines or some music brings in."

"No, its OK. Have my iPod. I'm not allowed porn. Just have to lust over Nurse Marian, I'm afraid."

"Good to hear your still as cheeky. I would ask Mr. Daniels to visit but he's abroad at the moment."

Alex hissed under his breath at this "Hope he took the rest of K Unit with him."

Crawley only caught the last part of the line, and answered "No K unit aren't with him. In fact I think they're in Hereford. I'll pass on you asked about then."

"No its OK. I'd rather not have visits from them, they'd scare the kiddies."

John laughed, but a pained expression crossed Alex's face at that point as a sharp pain lanced across his chest. His heart rate raised and so did his blood pressure.

"Its OK... just a twinge. Bad for a moment but its passing." The boy on the bed took in the concerned expressions on the adult's faces, he then thought back through their cold, hard actions in the past. In all honesty, the fact he was ill could not be laid at their door. In truth, if he had not looked so like Alexei Sarov's dead son, he would have been murdered by Conrad on Cuba. He was alive and still fighting.

Alex was then truthful, "It looks worse than it is, the oxygen is just to help me through this cold. Two days ago I was bombing around the ward, playing computer games and enjoying the start of the school year. It's way better than Brookland here, the tutor likes me, she gives out lesson plans and its up to us to study. I plan to sit my exams next summer. You need goals to keep positive. Anyway, I'm talking to the shrink here about Jack and stuff, but I need to talk about Yassen and crappy stuff like that. It's hard leaving out the OSA stuff, you know."

Mrs Jones' eyes crinkled, Alex guessed she was smiling. "I'm glad you're talking through your past experiences. I will make sure that the doctor you're talking to is cleared and understands that operational facts are not to be disclosed without our prior approval." The woman reached forward and her gloves hand grasped Alex's on the bed, he almost jumped not expecting the personal contact. "I cannot relay how upset and concerned I was over the events in Cairo, and part of the blame lies at my door, but the fact was I could have stood up to Alan but I didn't. I am shocked you are so ill and I surmise this is the reason you came back from California, so soon."

"Liz and Edward had insisted I see the same psychologist Sabina had seen after the Cray business. Only their medical insurance covered family but not foster kids. It was $400 a session. Treatment for this would have run into hundreds of thousands. The drugs alone cost thousands. The only difference from there to here is that would have had days in hospital and spent the rest of the time at home. The treatment here is more intensive and harder overall but by Early December I'll be able to go out and enjoy life again." Alex then looked at John Crawley. "I get you guys are checking on me, but I want to put our association into the past. I'm in no position to work for you ever again. Whatever tag is on my file I want you to make sure that no one in the future decides even look in my direction. This illness is a full stop over me being an asset for you or anybody else. So, let Byrne and Damon know that they can fuck off. The Russians already know because I needed the radiation exposure data from Murmansk."

Crawley's forehead then dropped into a frown. Alex almost felt like laughing, two emotional responses from that man in less than an hour must be a Guinness World Record. "So, I take it radiation caused your leukaemia."

"Yeah, it was always a possibility. The doctors there warned me of the dangers and long term affects of gamma radiation. I still don't understand the dose I got but it was high enough for the doctors in Murmansk to worry about it." Alex sighed. "After Cairo I noted I wasn't healing." Alex then said in a firm voice. "Thanks for visiting, but I really expect you two have much more important things to be doing. You know saving the world, getting the bad guys, trying not to fuck things up. So, you don't have to come back. If you feel bad about all this just give a fiver to the hospital on the way out. Now that's your cue to exit stage left, because I need another nap before supper."

Marian noted the unexpected guests leave and then saw that Alex was curled on his side and was visibly shaking trying to disguise the fact he was very upset. She entered to room to the sound of hoarse, raw sobs as the boy wept bitter tears.

Alex noted he was not alone. He hated the fact there was no privacy here. He rolled over to stare at the ceiling and croaked "If four army types turn up and ask for me or for Cub. I'm not here and you never heard of me."

"So who were those people?"

"The type of people who can ruin your life. My uncle and my dad worked for them." Alex wiped his face on the sheet. He was well shot of them. Leukaemia was the lesser of two evils where the Royal and General Bank were concerned. Another painful tremor passed through his body. "Can I have another painkiller, please, a strong one?"

...

Tom was home for school after football practice. Tonight his mum was working till 6. He looked in the fridge, how hard could cooking dinner be? He better stick to something simple. Jar of sauce, mince and spaghetti, he read the instructions carefully, not exactly rocket science but a start. Tom promised to make his mother feel appreciated. Small gestures went a long way. Poor Cary practically did everything at home before her mother really went off the deep end. She had cooked, cleaned, shopped, got herself sorted for school, the lot. Tom and his elder brother had been waited on hand and foot. Now his mother worked shifts ay Sainsbury's. He could even get a job, bring in some money. Small steps first.

Brenda Harris arrived home, tired and wondering if Tom would actually be home. Two nights in a row he'd been off supposedly visiting Alex Rider, the boy who spent three visits to hospital already this year. She did not know what to think about the revelation that Tom's best friend had Leukaemia. She had a soft spot for the boy who had befriended her lonely and shy eleven year old son, Jerry had just left Brookland at that point. She opened the door after being dropped off by her friend Maggie. The shift had been busy, it had been one of those days when if it could go wrong it had. She was putting on her slippers and could smell food. She walked into the kitchen and the small table was set, a bunch of Oxeye Daisies in a jam jar and a glass of wine poured for her.

"Evening, mother dearest. Right on time for supper. I made spaghetti bolognese. I hope its alright." Tom had enjoyed his first stint in the kitchen. He had surprised himself as it all looked and tasted OK. He placed two bowls on the table and went to pull the chair out for his mother, helping her to sit.

"Buon appetito, mamma."

"Thank you for this, you wonderful boy. I had an awful day at work. How was football practice?"

"Cooking dinner was therapy to get over how awful it was. I miss Alex. He said yesterday he might make it to spectate by Christmas." Tom then started to eat with gusto.

"He must be very ill." Brenda said, thinking she must ring up just to find out if this was a lie to cover over the fact Alex was on remand. At least Tom had never been arrested. Poor Jack had just laughed off all Alex's scrapes last year. Brenda had seen ho devastated Jack had been when Alex had run off in August last year. Alex had run wild after his uncle died.

Tom was in his room at 7:30, music blaring as he did his homework, all after cleaning the kitchen and putting his sports kit in the washing machine. Her son was growing up, her heart clenched with that knowledge. She dreaded the thought of life alone.

She picked up the phone book, after a short spell on hold was connected to the ward, when she spoke to a man with a deep resonant, voice. "Elephant Ward, How can I help you?"

"Oh, hello, My name is Brenda Harris, my son Tom visited his best friend Alex, Alexander Rider yesterday. I know you can't give out much over the phone but I was just wondering how Alex was doing?"

"He's had a bad couple of days and is sleeping at the moment. He has a small throat infection and hopefully he'll rest and get over it so he can start his next chemo course on schedule next week."

"I must come and visit. Do you think he'll be up for visitors on Sunday?"

"Alex needs all the friends he can get at the moment. We have some general rules, please do not bring fresh flowers or perishable food to the ward and Alex is confined to bed at the moment with infection control measures in place. Hopefully by the weekend he'll be up and about again."

"Thanks for that, goodbye."

...

It was well after 8pm when Alex next woke. Damian was in to check him and grunted and shook his head when he took Alex's vitals. Alex then noted the bag of plasma had been removed, but not the drip.

"How am I doing? Is it OK for me to go to the bathroom, because I need a number two?"

"Temperature just over 100. Oxygen saturation has dropped to 91. OK, tough guy, up you get, but let me help you though, you may get some dizzy spells. you haven't eaten much today."

Alex practically took an age to slowly slide across his room to get to sit on the throne. Damian stood outside the door in a show of privacy. "Mina did your washing for you. Says you're not to leave until your last pair of pajamas again."

"I think I'll stick with gowns for the moment. I'm sweating like a pig."

"Keep yourself sat down, and I'll change your bedding. I pass in a new gown as well, Do you want help to have a shower?"

"I'd love a shower but I think I might collapse." Alex stead in al honesty, he was shattered.

"Right, I come in and help you wash."

By the time he was half way clean, Alex was shivering with cold. He hurried up and was glad to be back in bed.

"Do you want any food?"

"I have some museli bars in the cupboard. I'll have one with some water. Hopefully I'll be up to eating tomorrow."

"That'll be rough on your throat, kiddo."

"I'll survive." Alex said in a tired flat croak. Not even attempting to eat anything.

"I know for a fact, you're not the tough guy you make out to be. I too went through the care system. My mum died when I was twelve. I'm still close to my brothers and sister, even after they split us up. I was placed with a nice couple, Idid alright in school. You have friends. Lover boy's mum was on the phone earlier asking after you. So, you ain't alone, even if your uncle's work colleagues are a glum bunch. Marian had a right old harp on about them upsetting you. So hang in there. Its just a couple of bum days. By Sunday, I bet you'll be loosing Mario Cart again."


	11. Chapter 11

Sergeant Harry Dixon took the call from Liverpool Street. This time it wasn't a mission or need for personnel, but news of a one time member of K-unit. The Special Forces Training Centre at Brecon and Hereford, did not normally keep track of those MI6 sent through before missions. There were exceptions, normally only when a solider crossed from the regiment to being a full spook. The current exception was the one teenager had trained there the previous March, Cub had passed the course that broke many full grown and full time soldiers.

The sergeant put down the phone and then put on his beret, to march across the quadrant to disturb K units training.

The Sargent entered the lecture hall and listened to the end of the talk on IEDs. Tomorrow was a practical on the variations on explosives and detonators in both remote and suicide devices. Harry noted the group of four men he was after. The distinctive tall figure of Eagle, with Wolf and Snake sat on either side. Slightly to the back was Terrapin, the replacement for Fox, the ex-SAS man who had been snapped up by MI6s black ops unit. Harry wondered how Wolf would take his news. The last gossip about Cub had been his dangerous antics at that school in France just weeks after the incident at the Science Museum. Wolf had found out the kid was a full deep cover spook at 14.

As the talk ended, the sergeant moved forward and watched as the the assembled soldiers stand to attention, "at ease, gentlemen. I just need a word with K Unit." The four remained at attention as the others filed out.

Wolf then growled "What's up, Harry? Bad news, I guess."

"I'm afraid so. You can go T, it's before your time."

The three were the remains of the original training unit in anti-terrorist operations. Snake spoke in his native soft Scottish accent "It's either Fox or Cub. Please tell me it's not Cub?"

"It is, poor lad's poorly."

"Another accident during an operation or another appendicitis?" Snake said scathingly, Wolf had been treated at St. Dominics in April after being shot in France. The team had guessed it was the usual treatment centre for those who worked for the Bank and the medic had spoken to the nurse there and found out Alex had been shot.

"Leukaemia, he's at Great Ormond Street Hospital. Not a great place for an orphan. He asked after you bunch of jokers, but requested you don't go and scare the other kid's on Elephant ward. His current course of treatment is due to end in December."

"Full time in hospital, shit. Poor kid. Is he having a bone marrow transplant or just aggressive chemo?"

"Ring the hospital, charm the nurses like usual Snake, his doctor is Trevor Conway, if you need to speak with the consultant."

...

Nothing had happened on Thursday, just the routine of the ward and Alex laid in bed working through his French, Spanish and German coursework. He found this the easiest of all his subjects. Miss C had popped in but had left Alex to it, She spoke French but not as fluently as her fifteen year old student. Alex knew if he did the boring part of getting the paperwork decent, he was guaranteed an A or A* in these subjects. His timetable had him finished and ready to take exams in January, not that he thought he would be able to.

On Friday morning Alex had a visit from the Psychologist. The man normally bright and cheerful, but this morning he looked pensive.

Alex broke the ice, "I guess you had either a visit or a phone call from the nice employees of the Royal and General Bank."

"No, a not so nice gentleman insisted I go for an interview at their Liverpool Street premises. I have to say Alex how the hell did you get involved with those sort of people?" The doctor looked thoroughly rattled. "I would have passed your case on only I talked to Dr. Pritchard, a Harley Street Psychiatrist who normally deals with 'spooks' and 'special operatives'." The clinical psychologist had been working with children for over ten years, but he had never come across such a horrific case of government sanctioned child abuse. "Your ward notes say you were extremely upset after a visit from those people on Wednesday. I can relate to that, I truly can. They scare the bejesus out of me."

"Is that a clinical term, doc? Crawley and Jones are the 'nice' face of MI6, you should have met Blunt, he was a real motherfucker." Alex was so glad that bastard had not come to act concerned. "As I told Marian, my dad and uncle worked and died for those people and their very twisted ideals on the greater good. You have to understand to fight people with no morals, you don't have the option of having them yourself. I am so glad I had the option to tell them that I would not, could not ever do them any favours ever again and just to set the record straight I did not volunteer. They used a lot of stick to force me to accept their little jobs."

"They got everyone you love killed."

Alex fought to keep from crying, with a few stray tears crept down his face. "Yes they did."

"Its OK to be upset."

"I get that but this place is a gold fish bowl. Even my room, I need a place to sit and think or cry or let out how fucking angry I am. I need to talk about the shit I survived and I guess I really have to start at the beginning, but now I'm able to talk about everything and anything, more than ever what I want to do is talk about teenage stuff, friendships and moving forward not dwelling on my past mistakes." Alex moved to sit up straight. "Then again, I also want to talk about a man called Yassen, who last year said he loved me. I guess I'm a bit dense emotionally, but I finally figured out he meant as in truly, madly, deeply. I was fourteen at the time and did not have a clue." Alex wished he'd had more time with the strange Russian, who his father had befriended. "For some reason I feel a deep connection with him. He and Jack were the only ones who wanted me to be a normal school kid, not the spy my uncle had been training me to be since I was a toddler. So where to start?" At this point Alex took a large drink of water. It was good that he was no longer on a drip or oxygen. "1. I'm dealing with a series of PTSD inducing situations. I have bad nightmares, but I don't think I have a day to day problem with coping or are about to have a breakdown. Number 2. Grief. Well that's on going. I miss Jack enormously but I think it's the whole deal that she was my lifeline to normal. Well, any hope of normal is out of the window now. I kind of hate Ian, I would punch his lights out if he were still breathing. I'm just so angry about him and his buddy Blunt. Yassen died last year. I'm conflicted over Yassen, he was not a nice person, but he was ok with me. He was what you would call a serial killer, he killed people for a living. How did he put it... Nothing personal but I've killed lots of people. He was also 30 plus, but oh so very beautiful, hot in fact. 3. I want to keep positive. Can we just go on day to day problems and adjustments if I promise to go for longer sessions after my chemo has finished. I want to be a normal school kid but I fear that ship has sailed. I know better than anyone there is no such thing as normal where adults are concerned."

"Two things to consider. Happy and Healthy. Health is your issue here, but that's physically and mentally. There are no hard and fast rules with therapy. I may want to go over certain things with you, but you have a lot to deal with. You need connections and you have friends, a sort of foster family and the support network here and that will continue as an outpatient. You have all these bad, horrific and traumatic things to deal with from before. You are also completely normal as you are exploring your sexuality and the possibility of relationships. We will talk about whatever you want or need to talk about. First off is your need for space for bring allowed to let off steam. There are a few places here to do that when you're up and about. The courtyard is one also the chapel. We have resources here for complementary therapy and treatments. Massage, yoga, breathing exercises and meditation. Mind, body and soul. So, Alex you were very upset over your creepy visitors the other day, please confirm that they were not here to force you to keep silent or to keep working for them?" Neil Harrison was positive with therapy, all the hurt and guilt could be placed in perspective. Alex was bright, articulate and so very not a teenager.

Alex's body language changed from a touch confrontational and cocky, to closed off, as he seemed to shrink in on himself. "They came and spoiled my idyll. They intruded into this space, my space, my safe environment and its broken my carefully constructed barriers of here and now being kept very separate from all the shit that happened before. That upset me, they were actually trying to be compassionate and considerate. I can't accept nice from people that have hurt, used and blackmailed me. I told them not to come back. I now need to get my shit together again, get back into the flow of nice routine. It's kind of calming the fact it's all so structured and that my medical needs come first. My own personal goals are doing amazingly well for my GCSEs just to stick two fingers up to my old school who failed to notice I was being abused, hurt and trapped by the situation I was in. I was bullied, ignored and rejected as hopeless case. You can see I'm just a bit jaded here."

"Justifiably so. Just to keep you informed I will discuss general concerns with your clinicians and your placement team at social services. Your complaints about your last school will be logged. You need to talk with Jeff if you want to appeal your rejected reapplication to Brookland?"

"I like the tutor here. I'll see what my options are but I will definitely lodge a complaint about both teachers and the bullying at Brookland. I can email Jeff about that." Alex felt better now he was cleared to talk. "So fixed sessions from now on or just when I get completely frazzled that I need to talk."

The psychologist smiled. "You already made the first step by admiting you needed to talk. I think we keep our conversations short, but frequent, How about half an hour three times a week. You don't even have to talk about you past or present, we can just talk about anything. No hard and fast rules. Most important is keeping you in your zone of positive thinking."

...

Sabina threw herself on her bed. First week of her Final year in High School over. She had finished her homework and had the whole weekend to relax. It was late as she logged on to her emails. One email from Alex. It sounded like he'd had one hell of a week with an infection and several visitors. Alex was praying for a quiet weekend. She worded her reply carefully trying not to sound smug or too happy. She knew she was very lucky. She and her parents owed Alex a debt of gratitude, but also they owed to help him move past his impulsiveness and reckless disregard for his own safety.

She had enjoyed his description of Tom delivering his 'true loves kiss' to Alex in full view of the lovely Marian. If only she had a photograph to capture that moment. She made up her mind to buy a camera and send it to Alex, so his emails would be illustrated with action shots as well.


	12. Chapter 12

Alex knew he was dreaming, everything was too Technicolour perfect. He was sat in the kitchen of his former home in Chelsea, having prepared a breakfast of toast and tea. Jack was sat wearing her frayed dressing gown talking about her date the night before. Alex's looked at her with such longing as he had missed her so much. He could pinpoint this exact morning, in early December last year about a week after they had returned from Australia. He noticed the way she was relaxed and completely without guile in his presence, the fact she was happy just to talk to him like he was her best friend. Then front door rattled as the post dropped onto the mat. Alex went into the hall, the space darker than the kitchen, he passed the mirror to the right of the front door, with its heavy oak frame. The reflection was not of a healthy 14 year old but his present self. Pale, thin and bald. At that point Alex sat up, abruptly awake. His right hand went up automatically to touch the smooth, hairless skin. Yesterday he'd given up the pretense of vanity and his few remaining tufts of long blonde hair had been shawn off. No eyebrows, no eyelashes, he had seen a stranger staring back at him in the mirror yesterday. Funny, he now looked nothing like that clone and that made his heart less heavy. He was the real Alex Rider, the one who had retired from saving the world and now was fighting leukaemia.

The boy got up and manouvered his sore bones to the bathroom with his ever present drip stand in his left hand. His fourth course of medicine being forced into his body one drip at a time. Instead of standing to pee, he sat down and sighed at the rolling nausea making saliva build up in his mouth. Was he going to vomit or not? He was sure he did not want to move, but the bathroom was small enough that he'd make a mess of the sink and not the floor. He leaned forward as an awful wave of sickness washed through him, he spat into the sink rather than swallow and dry heaved. His stomach muscles clenching. He could not even stomach the though of brushing his teeth when he felt like this. He knew it would either pass or he'd actually be sick. One or the other. He sat frozen in his misery. It was Tuesday morning. The lovely Marian was on holiday in the Maldives, she had sent a postcard to the ward. One of a series on the notice board. There was another, from the Cathedral City of Hereford, it had briefly said 'Keep your pecker up, Wolf, Snake and Eagle. PS Off to Brecon for training. Wish you were here'.

His solitude was broken when Lucie came in with fresh bedding, humming a tune Alex did not recognise, but he was not surprised at that as he did not listen to Capital or Radio 1, so it was probably something in the charts. His iPod was filled with an eclectic mix of jazz, blues, classical, rock and pop. Music chosen by Derek Smithers. Some Alex liked, some he hated with a passion, but he chose not to delete as he had the option of just skipping.

"You OK in there, Alex?" said the all too cheerful twenty-four year old nurse.

He wanted just to grunt, but he sighed heavily. "Give me a minute." With the intake of air, Alex heaved into the sink. That was better. Mostly water and bile. He had given his sandwich to Tom last night. He turned on the tap and the slimy green mess disappeared down the plughole.

Alex pressed his forehead on the cool porcelain. "Sorry, Luce... I feel a bit grim."

He then got up and exited the bathroom. A cup of fennel tea was in order. He ignored the nurse and walked down the ward to the four door down into the kitchen. Kettle filled up and got down his Moomin mug, bought for him by Sabina in September. His supply of tea in his own box with his biscuits and Haribo treats. He no longer ate crisps or popcorn, after mouth ulcers erupted last week. The aniseed smell filled the kitchen as the boiled water hit the tea bag. He then took his tea to sit in covered outside play area at the end of the ward. The cold fresh air would help chase the grim nausea away.

He shivered, he only wore his thin sweat pants and long sleeved t-shirt combo. Not enough to help keep out the early morning chill. Not that it was really cold. It was probably going to be another fine sunny day. It was early October and after the upset of his visitor's from the bank, he'd had no more unwanted reminders of his past. Sabina had sent him the email address for James Sprintz. Alex had not contacted his one time best friend at the school from hell, unsure how to say, sorry I wasn't in contact but I was kidnapped, kidnapped again, blackmailed, ran away, shot, blackmailed again, kidnapped... God, then explain about all this and by the way my favourite pastime at the moment is puking my guts up. He would rather avoid the nursing staff that take the anti-nausea shots. Why to stop puking did they have to shove a huge great needle into your thigh? It hurt and then could not help but sleep and he wanted to finish his science project. Maybe it had been the fact he stated his present address was in a Haematology/Oncology ward at a Children's hospital but he had been sent useful information of the affects of radiation exposure in space from all three space agencies. He had read through the general background and was know trying to understand the very technical papers sent through. Then he caught his train of thought, avoidance. he was rather good at that. He was avoiding contacting James, because of all that James represented. Only his friend was not involved in the abuse, lies and manipulations. They had been friends. Alex deep down wanted to be friends, hoped to be friend again. He finished he tea and steeled himself for the task at hand. What was the worst that could happen? A complete rejection, that would be understandable. Sympathy and pity, well thats what Alex wanted to avoid, but James was bound to ask why is your current address a hospital? There was a slim chance James had missed his friend's witty personality, but Alex was not the boy he had been then. He was jaded by his experiences but he wondered how James had faired over the past year since his last phone call, before Alex had runaway to join Scorpia.

Alex sat and stared at his computer screen before he started to type.

_Hi James,_

_Its Alex.. Alex Rider. I know I've been out of touch. Well I was a bit of a git last August and I ran away. When I came home in November, your phone and email account had changed. I hope this gets through to you. My friend Sabina Pleasure tracked you down to your present school. Well I have moved, several times in fact. My current address is... _

...

James sat in the Computer Lab, pretending to work on his IT project and clicked to read his emails instead. He hoped to hear from his friends at the Point Blanc Alumni Association, as Paul Roscoe called it. Eight names on the rosta, the only member they had lost track of was Alex Rider, AKA Alex Friend, teenage super spy. Today, was another lonely day for the only child of Dieter Sprintz. The fact he had seven good friends got him through the days, weeks and months at Boarding School. His thoughts were often drawn to the one missing one, the boy who he had befriended as a kindred spirit, not that he had the opportunity to find anything out about Alex. He seemed to have spent the last eighteen months annoyed by his father, who yoyo-ing between his usual distant, workaholic self and being impossibly clingy. James now saw the awfulness of school as an escape. Sure, he could have asked his father to track down his friend, but it was possibly the fact Dieter had moved from Germany to Switzerland had been the reason Alex had lost contact. Dieter Sprintz now lived and worked at a remote estate outside of Gstaad, after becoming completely paranoid after the widely reported attempted kidnapping of Nicholei Drevin's son in London by eco-terrorists. James was only open with his fellow captives who had survived that nightmare in Grenoble. He was now in his second year at St. George's International School in Montreux. He had stopped asking his father for anything, no longer acting out or rocking the boat. His scores at school no longer rock bottom, but neither were they brilliant. He still hated school with a passion and treated his fellow pupils with politeness but he had nothing in common with these other privileged and pampered children. Others who had overprotective parents, divorced parents, workaholic parents but he alone went to see the counsellor every week because he had issues over being imprisoned, beaten and kidnapped.

He scrolled down the junk, deleting it as he went. There was one from a hotmail account, AlexJohn87. He normally deleted all emails from addresses he did recognise. One of the rules imposed by his father. His school email address only handed out to the select few. Somehow Alex had tracked him down, only it had been Sabina Pleasure who had done the almost impossible. He guessed she had contacted Cassian, who had a lively blog and website and who moaned frequently about his time at the school with the evil Stepford like fellow pupils.

James read and reread the short note. So caredully worded, as if Akex expected James to tell him to fuck off. Alex was his first real, true and best friend. James was worried about the address as well. He clicked on to the internet and searched for the hospital and its specialist wards, then the terms haemotology and oncology, which translated in normal language to blood disorders and cancer. Alex was ill. The email ended with, _Give my regards to al the others_... with that James forwarded Alex's email to Tom, Cassian, Hugo, Joe, Paul, Nicholas and Dimitri.

_Good to hear from you Alex_

_Sorry my dad moved and we lost touch. I asked for you to come on holiday last summer with us but you were in America. So, in hospital huh? Whats the deal with that?_

_Sorry but we're stuck communicating by email. I'm at another completely unbearable boarding school, and guess what I have no phone privileges. I'll try and beg steal or borrow some phone time. Hope to speak soon_

_James _

Then, James email pinged with replies from Paul, Hugo and Nicholas.


	13. Chapter 13

James stood arms crossed, in his current face off with his house captain, Pierre Fontaine. Pierre was not a bad guy, he was fair, but rules were rules. His sticking point was the two demerits James had earned this week for late homework assignments in a pattern of missed and late assignments across the first four and a half weeks of the autumn term. Pupils could only have personal phones with a positive school record.

"Look, Sprintz, no demerits or some actual merits and you will get full phone privileges. We all know you never phone your mater and pater, which is why you turn in such a shoddy performance. Every week last year you had one to three demerits. Consistently underperforming, but never bad enough to get a detention." Fontaine got that Sprintz was coasting, doing time until he was free to get as far away from his father as possible.

"OK, I'll stop the passive resistance, do my prep on time and put some more effort in generally and be a team player, but honestly its kind of an emergency. I just found out my friend, as in best buddy from that school in France, has leukaemia. I want to ring him at hospital in London, just to check he's fine, doesn't need anything and how to help out. Shit, I might even talk to my mother to go visit her at half term."

"Which hospital, James?"

"Err, the kids one, Great Ormond Street Hospital, Elephant Ward. Haemotology and Oncology. He's there for nearly five months for intensive chemo. Half way through. Shit, his foster sister was the one that tracked me down for him."

"Here, use my phone, you can pay me back. Its set up for international calls. Remember just add 0044 and and take of the front 0." Pierre then left his own room, but paused in the door to add "I'll be back in ten minutes. Might be an idea to talk to your mother as well, if you plan on visiting her."

"Thanks Pierre. You're the best.". For a moment he stared at the state of the art Nokia, with a dry mouth, he had been so completely sure Pierre would keep to the hard line over house policy. It was now or never, he phoned the number he had scrawled in biro on his hand.

"Err Elephant Ward please... Can I speak to Alex Rider?".

…..

Tom was talking about food in French. The one thing Tom could talk about in French and Italian was filling his stomach. Cary found this funny as Alex kept introducing more and more vocabulary for different drinks, pastries, entrees, and snacks, acting like a surly waiter.

Damian put his head into Alex's room. "Phone, tough guy or should I say Pardon, téléphone, Malfrat."

"Malfrat?" Cary asked, having never heard that word.

Alex smiled "Thug, crook, tough guy, err I wouldn't use it in your exam as its slang."

Alex picked up the phone at the nurses desk and said "Hi, super cool Alex at your service."

"Glad to hear you're still the same modest guy, Lexie." James was surprised by the bright cheeky intro.

"Sorry to disappoint, Jamie, but I have to keep everyone on their toes here." Alex smiled and winked at Damian who was shaking his head at the teenagers flippancy.

"So, long term inpatient. That kind of sucks."

"Its actually Ok, I feel shit a lot of the time but I think of the end game, cancer free, having hair again and being able to stomach a curry."

"So, are you still living in Chelsea?"

"Yeah, Council Children's Home, Lockwood House. Met great girl there, Cary Davies. She's visiting at the moment with Tom, we have a regular GCSE revision club going."

"What? You still have school!" James exclaimed, not quite believing Alex was both sick and in school, surely you got a get out of jail free card, then again this year was kind of make or break.

"You know that better than anyone. I thought you were being home schooled, only now your back at some exclusive boarding school."

"I could not take my dad harping on at me 24/7. Teachers, prefects and the regular airheads are better. So still going to the crummy London Comprehensive?"

"No, they told me not to bother returning for Year 11 in July. Fine by me, I get tutored here and I think I'll be in a specialist unit after Christmas."

"For truants and troublemakers?"

"Don't forget the teen mums. So, you've checked up on me. I guess we're both hanging in there. I promise to keep you informed but the ward phone is not for regular use. Email me your phone number and when you have free time. I'll call you from down the hall. I can get phone cards in the shop downstairs."

"Sure thing, Lex. I was wondering, in two weeks its half term. I'll try and sweet talk my mother so I can visit."

"Sure thing. Open hours visiting here, from 8am to 9pm. Call before you come in case I'm less than brilliant. I've had one infection and I can be cranky, just to warn you. No visiting if you have any infections or if you have been in contact with anyone with Chicken Pox. No flowers as well."

"Right, rules. Bedtime at 9, thats criminal."

"My record is sleeping has been almost of two days. I get tired, I just read Shakespeare and I'm out like a light."

"Maybe I should try that when I can't sleep. See you soon, Lexie."

"Back at you, Jamie."

Alex smiled as he entered his room "OK, guys. James Sprintz is coming to visit in a couple of weeks. I lost contact with him after my Venetian escapade and its just really good he wants to hang out with us losers."

"Speak for yourself Blondie. I'm going places." Cary stated, she was not a loser, that tag was fine for those who were unlucky enough to go to Brookland.

"You and Sabina. Both top of the form. Must be a girl thing. I just want June to be over with. Then, I get to decide on whether I go to further education college and do A levels."

" I'm getting an apprenticeship, probably as a plumber. I talked to James Hale's dad. Its a plan. Seeing as I never got an offer for a football apprenticeship like Al, there." Tom would love to play football professionally, but Brookland had not shone as a team since Year 9.

"Really, Fulham or Chelsea?" Cary asked, not that she really liked football, she had only started to be interested because of Tom and Alex

"Fulham, no wonder Ian turned them down. Sad sack supported Derby County." Alex wondered if thats where the Rider's haled from originally, Alex had no idea where his grandparents had lived or died. He wondered if the Derby connection was a clue.

...

James Sprintz then phoned his mother, he had hated both his parents so much when he returned from that school. He endured his father's sympathy, good cheer and his attempts to be the father James had used to long for, but after the horror now mistrusted. James and Dieter lived in an uneasy truce. The wosrt part of returning from the school in France had been the fact both his parents were civil to each other for four days when his mother had left with 'call me if need anything, darling.' Left to go back to her life in London without her overbearing ex-husband or the child the courts decided she couldn't look after or visit unsupervised.

James phoned the number, he used to call every week pleading to his mother to come back, that he missed her, that he hated school. She had spoken the truth that she was powerless to help him. Now, was he felt bad, for using a visit to his mother to visit his sick friend. Lie and say he wanted to reconcile or tell the truth and hurt the woman's feelings. To right he was going to lie.

...

Alex had read the booklet provided by Dr. Jake, the psychologist. It detailed types of abuse. It was sobering for Alex to see the terms written in simple language for him to understand. "So, Doc. I have read and understood your little booklet and it seems I tick all the boxes. I have suffered and survived physical, emotional, sexual, ritual/organised abuse and neglect."

Jake Summers frowned, Alex had discussed the physical and emotional abuse in detail, even being tortured. "OK, Alex can you quantify the sexual abuse you suffered?"

"Right, err.. the school in France I went to briefly. Point Blanc Academy. I was drugged stripped and photographed by Miss Stellenbosch and the creepy doctor. Who knows what they did to me when I was under. I only saw some of the images they took. I felt violated and completely sick after finding out that. I was also forced to strip by Yassen and Nile, while they watched."

"This is the same Yassen that confessed as he was dying that he loved you?" The man took notes. "You were 14, when all these events took place, correct?"

Alex scratched his head. The pamphlet had clearly stated lack of privacy undressing and taking photos of a naked child were sexual abuse. "Yeah. I dunno but its kind of wrong that I was attracted to Yassen."

"You have stated he was beautiful. You were attracted to the man's physical attributes, as you would be to an image in a magazine or a stranger you see in the street. You are a normal, healthy teenager. You find lots if people aesthetically appealing or sexually attractive, that does not mean you are inviting sexual contact or going to jump into a relationship, now is it?"

"I guess. Not that I get sexually attracted or turned on by anything any more. I have not had an erection for months. I thought that was as a result of my wonky blood. Not enough of it pumping around to waste on wanking."

"Thats true, you also might be repressing your wants and desires. So, no sexual dreams?"

"Err.. well, I dream about Sabina in her white bikini, but that piece of clothing was practically pornographic, it was so small. She's one fit lady. Mind you so's her mum, Liz is 100% MILF. I also kind of liked Tom's fit, as in very fit, older brother. I've had a few dreams about him without his shirt on. Shit, I really am a bit on the fence, boys and girls. Who knows, maybe, a bit of both is OK?"

"OK, Alex, ever heard of the Kinsey scale?" The Doctor stated out of the blue while scribbling down notes.

"Thats to do with sexual orientation, right?"

"Right, smart kid. I would wager you are a 2. The scale ranges from 0 i.e. completely heterosexual to 6 completely homosexual with a range of attractiveness to either the same or opposite sex in between, with also non-sexual and unusual/failed match noted. So, guess what, you test in the normal range for a young male. You are also inexperienced and you have had abusive experiences to skew your perspective. I reckon in a few years you may be happy to date either male or female or may be completely heterosexual. No hang-ups Alex what-ever works for you and makes you happy is ok, male or female."

Alex sat back. "I really am not a victim. I was the one out of control. I wanted to prove myself and I got to be sick of people not taking me seriously. They trained me, sent me on missions and when I noticed things were not right, they ignored my concerns because I was a kid. I instigated so much of the crap last year, but I was the product of Ian's conditioning."

Alex then stood and walked over to Jake's window to look at the busy street below. "Its great getting out of the ward." Jake's office was on the fifth floor of the main building, just a short walk really, but not in the Mildred Creek Unit itself.

"I would suggest you go to group on Thursdays but you are hanging in there. Just keep talking, dealing with the crap you have had to put up with and I must say you are an inspiration."

"I'm just upbeat about James visiting. Edwards back at the end of the month as well. Then again, I got another shit postcard from K unit as well. Cyprus this time with a 'really wish you were here'."

"Your Support network is expanding. So is your school work on plan?"

"Yeah, Miss C says I need to have some careers advice. Seems a bit pointless at the moment. I'm an ex-spy. I think maybe working in a coffee shop or a care worker or nurse. Modelling and football is out now. I can't be and frankly do not want to be anything like my uncle or father." Alex returned to the ward, using the quiet of the afternoon to sit and ponder his future, whether to embrace what he was good at or go off at a tangent and try something completely new. He had been surprised how much he had enjoyed doing his science project, which had encompassed a great deal of medical and physical data. He was getting to proof read by the Psychologist of all things, just to see if he'd left out any important details.

The next morning the teenager discussed that deferring the careers talk may actually hurt his future options.

"OK, Clarissa. I agree to see the careers advisory person, but I'm worried that my actual school record is so very poor. Technically, Brookland declined my readmission, but I was on my last chance, do anything wrong and you're excluded, permanently. My grades weren't brilliant last year, when I went back to school after running away. It all sounds so full of teenage angst, but how do you tell an employer my life went to shit, I was abused and then I got seriously ill. I am no ones idea of a good employee."

The woman wrote a quick note in her Filofax, pencilling a Careers visit to the hospital ASAP. "You are still only fifteen. You get well, take a weekend job, stick at it, get some great references and last year will be just a blip in your otherwise wonderful school record. I have found you a joy to guide, as you have been self-motivated and so very driven. I will be writing you glowing reports for your work here. I may even pop into the Teaching Unit at Chelsea College to see you after Christmas."

...

Brenda Harris had never been into all the politics of the PTA or the school governors. This was the first formal PTA meeting she had been asked to attend by Rebecca Hale. The Macmillian nurse had also invited Jeff Mathers to raise Alex's complaints about the school during the last item on the agenda, any other matters.

Rebecca Hale was very active for the school, where both she and her husband had also attended. The former students had been near neighbours growing up on the Council Estate off Fulham Road.

The Headmaster had droned on about OFSTED, projected Exam results and the proposed school trips this year, when finally item seven was announced. Rebecca Hale stood and the smiled warmly. "I have one question for Mr. Bray concerning an ex-pupil who is now one of my patients. Alex Rider was a pupil with good grades, excellent attendance and a brilliant sporting record for the school up until his guardian died in March 2001. His grades and attendance then nosedived and his guardian pulled him out of school in June last year, after the shooting incident when Tom Harris was injured. Kensington and Chelsea Social Services Department enquired for Alex to re-attend this year when Mr. Bray unilaterally refused that re-admission. I am here to inform you, in July Alex was diagnosed with an aggressive blood cancer, which would in some ways explain his poor overall health in the past year. Leukaemia makes injuries and illnesses very slow to heal and makes the patient tired and lethargic resulting in lower grades. Alex is currently very ill and an inpatient in Hospital undergoing intensive chemotherapy. I just want to make the PTA and the Governors aware, Mr Bray refused an ill boy the chance to return to the school he had attended for four years and in his final GCSE year as well. I must also emphasis that ill teenagers need a good support network, we normally expect the school to act as part of that support network despite large amounts of missed school or likely inability to keep up with the coursework. I would also like to introduce Mr. Jeffery Mathers of the Department of Family and Social Services at Kensington and Chelsea Council."

The bearded man then stood and spoke "Good Evening, I am here to speak for Alex as he is unable to attend to present his own case. I am also here to offer my Department apologies for not acting sooner in the case of Alexander Rider. We had on file several concerned individuals noting Alex's unexplained injuries, change in attitude and personality. His reckless disregard for his own well being and his refusal to talk, stating he was fine. These concerns were mirrored by concerns raised by the police last year. Abuse and neglect were suspected but these reports were not acted on. Alex, slipped through the net. With his illness, Alex left his foster placement and entered into full time care. In the past months the full extent of the abuse he suffered has come to light." Jeff then cleared his throat. "and now I will address Alex's response to the PTA and school governors. So here we go... Hello everybody, First off, I wish to apologise for my poor performance over the last year, especially running away during the school trip to Venice and missing three months of school. For everyones piece of mind I can confirm that I have no intention of returning to Brookland. I fully understand Mr. Bray's position and his decision to decline my return. In hindsight, I think my leaving was a positive for me as well as the school. The tutor at the hospital is great, I am in regular sessions with the psychologist and I am working through my issues. Something that I am sure would not have happened if I'd just gone back to class and carried on in complete denial that I was fine and everything was normal. Overall I have enjoyed my time at the school. However in the last year I was not at my best, but I really did have extenuating circumstances. By the time Jack pulled me out of school in June last year, I hated it there. I had been ostracized and victimized by members of staff and my fellow pupils. In fact, I dreaded coming to school each and every morning. The short amount of time I spend at school in Cairo, I liked attending, learning and participating in my education. I have to admit, I was in denial of my own problems and being ill has been a wake up call for me on many levels. I have given Jeff details of the bullying that took place including several instances that were in full view of teachers, who did nothing as I was verbally abused, spat on and had my property stolen and damaged. I wish to let the govenors know this so measures can be put in place to stop this happening in future. So, thanks for everything. Especially Miss Bedfordshire who made every day at Brookland special. Goodbye, so long and maybe see you in the future, Alex Rider."

At this Jeff sat down and Brenda Harris stood up, and fidgeted, in a quiet, soft voice she began to talk. "Really I wish to confirm that there is a bullying problem at Brookland, a long standing one. My son, a classmate of Alex's was bullied mercilessly in Year Seven. He came home bloody and bruised, with damaged clothes. He was pelted with food and less pleasant things. He withdrew into himself, but never complained, as only squealers grassed their fellows up. It is up to parents and staff to change this culture of suffering in silence. Thank you."


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a stressful two weeks, but the trip to London was arranged. Since arranging to spend half term with his mother, James had been called every evening by both his mother and father. His parents back to bitching about each other, fighting over their son's affections, not realising James hated them both equally for their behaviour.

The only thing keeping James Sprintz sane was the emails from his friends in the USA, Canada, France, Russia and Holland and Alex's intermittent phone calls. Alex spoke of the slow pace of life, his latest blood results, having another transfusion and going for X-rays and MRI scans. The fact he had few but regular visitors and how he missed Sabina and her family. That made James heart ache that Alex had found a pseudo family and James was stuck trying to negotiate terms and also reassure his father, who's jealously had reasserted itself now that his son was back contact with the bitch he had married and divorced.

James more than anyone knew his mother's faults. She had lost custody of a nine year old James by leaving him home alone while she went to a party, when her friend who promised to baby sit failed to arrive. James remembered that night bitterly, if only he had slept through no-one would be any the wiser, but he'd had a nightmare and on waking he had found the flat empty, his fears had tripled; so he'd phoned his father. James had been taken into the care of two police officers within ten minutes and within four hours his father had flown in from Germany. The next morning, Dieter had arranged an emergency family court hearing, one Blythe Sprintz had not turned up for and then to taken his son back with him to Germany. It wasn't until that afternoon, when she returned home, she had been arrested for child neglect and later sentenced to 200 hours community service. Full custody was passed to Dieter with Blythe only allowed supervised visits. So, his life had flipped from the joy of his bohemian mother with occasional Saturdays with Dieter to the other way around. Only when Bylthe had to leave on her visits, James never wanted her to go, but she always left him.

James had to admit, his father never left him unattended, staff were always there as Dieter worked his usual long hours, but James always felt so alone. Wishing and hoping for a home he would never have again and a distant father he only saw occasionally. James had been a toddler when the model and the business giant had divorced. Blythe had been a full time mother and they had been a team, with James allowed him to run free, edicated at the Holland Park Steiner School and she had thought everything he did was brilliant. James hated school in Germany, he did not speak German at all well and he was picked on because of the tabloid sensation of the model Blythe McCudden loosing custody of her only child. Dieter also expected top marks, hard work, diligence and perfect behaviour. Dieter only seemed to criticize James, for everything he did.

James had grown more and more distant from his mother as he grew, and more and more rebellious until Dieter had sent him to that school. James had stopped being the devil child then, he had calmed but withdrawn into himself. It was funny, he was his old self when chatting to Alex. The social network of seven other boys was casual but none of them were as close or as easy to talk to as Alex had been and continued to be. James still remembering the clones, with their creepy personalities when conversing with the others.

A teacher had seen James onto the flight to London Heathrow. At arrivals at Terminal 3, he had been tearfully embraced by his mother in full view of a bloody photographer.

In the taxi into London Blythe, reapplied her make-up. "So, James, whats the real reason you're visiting. I am very happy to see you, but for the past two years you have rainchecked every single visit I proposed."

James squirmed in his seat like a guilty child. Before checking himself and explaining his continued resentment. "You have to understand I'm so angry with both of you and Dieter. Mostly Dad for controlling all my contact with you and you for letting him. You made one mistake and I've paid for it." James looked at the grey, drizzled hitting the taxi window. "Get the taxi to go to Great Ormond Street Hospital. I want you to meet Alex. You remember I told you about him when I arrived home from Point Blanc."

"Your fellow pupil, who was an undercover spy?" Both Blythe and Dieter had heard the horrible details of their son's near replacement by a clone. Blythe was sure she would have noticed the difference, but then again her son was practically a stranger now, so would she?

"He's in hospital. I came over to visit him. You can get to meet the boy who saved my life." James almost sneered at his mother, but part of him wanted to reconcile. He was nearly sixteen and he could again choose who he lived with during the holidays from school.

"Thank you for telling me the truth." Blythe then instructed the driver to divert from her flat on Penzance Street, Holland Park to Bloomsbury.

The teenager with dark hair, pale skin and blue eyes looked on as his mother who was trying to remain composed. He decided to offer an olive branch. "I trying to be a tough guy here,mum. To act like I don't care. I'm just scared. Scared of getting hurt again. The whole custody thing has been so unfair. I feel like we're strangers and maybe I've gotten over my sulk. I want to get to know you mum. Alex been ill has been the kick up the pants for me to stop hiding at that school in Montreaux and actually be a man and admit I miss you mum. I love you and I don't care what Dieter thinks anymore. If I could I wouldn't go back to either Switzerland at all. However, that choice I can make in the summer." In truth, the compromise after Point Blanc was for James to attend an english speaking school. James knew he could barter with his father. This four day trip to London had been agreed, only after James had gotten the councilor involved. In truth, Dieter was severely worried about the psychological effect and long term damage done to James because of the kidnapping and imprisonment. James then reached over to hold his mother's hand. "Truce. A fresh start, we need to get to know one another again. Yes I came to see Alex, but I could have done that with father. By asking to stay with you was my roundabout way of coming to terms with our enforced estrangement. Can you forgive me for being so distant?"

Blythe wanted to hug her son for all he was worth, but she smiled tightly and squeezed his hand. "You need never ask forgiveness, darling. Not when it was my own stupid neglect that caused all these problems. We will have plenty of time to talk. So tell me, is Alexander as much of a trouble maker as you have been." Blythe liked the fact her son was wild, opinionated, and with strong emotions. He was the product of a passionate marriage, which went sour because she and her former husband had wanted different things from life. With arrival of James,Dieter had expected Blythe to be a good wife and mother, with no need of independence or a social life.

...

The past five days had been so boring. Tom had a cold, so had not been into visit. Cary was also staying away, as half Lockwood House was also ill. Alex picked up the prospectus from Chelsea College to read through the vocational courses. He could take A Levels, also HNDs, BTECs or NVQs in a wide variety of subjects from computing to hairdressing. James had been noncommittal about visiting, stating it would be when he could get his mother to agree or when he gave her the slip. The teenager began to scratch round the central line entry on his chest subconsciously. Only to stop himself, but it did itch something awful. He then pulled up his t-shirt, to look to see if he had a rash or infection, but it was just an itch from the dressing tape. He got up to get a hot drink, only to see Damian smiling and being rather charming to a very fashionably dressed, beautiful lady with long auburn hair. Alex stopped in the doorway and then noticed a tall, lanky boy with dark hair and familiar long pale face. "Jamie?"

The boy, across the hall, looked shocked for a moment, then he frowned before deciding on a wide smile, moving forward and awkwardly hugging his friend. "God, Lex, you said bald, but you really are completely Kojak."

"Tell me about it. My underarm hair and pubes fell out first. Then, the rest of my hair in spits and spots. I finally went to the barbers a couple of weeks ago to get rid of the last stray tufts. So, who's your girlfriend?" Alex nodded to the woman seriously flirting with the normally very serious night shift nurse.

"Shut up, you dog. Come on I'll introduce you to my mother."

The two boys stood waiting, as James' mum laughed politely at the lame joke told by Damian. James then smiled at the woman, "Mum, meet Alex, the guy who saved my bacon eighteen months ago. Alex meet Blythe McCudden, my mother."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. McCudden." Alex bowed slightly and kissed the back of her offered hand rather than shake it.

Damian then almost growled, "Trust you to be a compete charmer. I have rounds. I'll let Alex show you around."

"Would you like a tea or coffee, or a cold drink? I have coke, some Dr. Peppers and a couple of cans of shandy?"

"Shandy? I haven't had that for years. That would be lovely." Blythe smiled taking in the sight of a very ill child. She was oh so very lucky, her son was healthy and whole.

"So first, the family lounge." Alex then whispered, "If anyone asks, I told them James was my cousin, so Blythe your cousin was Helen Beckett, OK." Alex then walked then down the corridoor to the fifth door on the left.

"I thought it was open visiting?"

"I'm not meant to get unscreened adult visitors, family is OK here, I had to get my social workers permission for Tom's mum to visit. I never expected you to bring your mum, I thought you were coming over alone."

"I wanted my mum to meet my hero" James said completely po-faced before laughing at the expression of sheer incredulousness on Alex's face.

...

Alex noticed James seemed preoccupied the next morning. When the two boys were left to chat and catch up, when Blythe dropped her son off and went to shop or something. Alex asked "What's up, Jamie?"

"It's just a bit surreal, the two people I wanted to spend time with are here. I lost contact with you and well, This is the first time I've been alone with my mother since I was a kid. Mind you I wouldn't put it past my dad to have some bastards keeping a record of all we get up to."

Alex could clearly remember the long conversations they had both shared when they seemed to be the only normal people in that whole fucked up school. Never mind that they did not fit in in their normal schools, both survivors of unhappy childhoods and major trust issues with adults. Alex neglected by Ian; ditto for James with his father. "So I guess from that you almost dying has changed nothing with your dad." Alex could guess Dieter still worked impossibly long hours with little real contact with his son. "So school in Switzerland, ok is it? Lots of chocolate and fondue?"

"Funny, but no. At least the lessons are in English. Standard curriculum. Teachers are strict but fair." James said blandly.

"So all the other kids are creepy perfect angels?" Alex could just imagine that none of them could relate to James.

"Not quite on par with Grief's clones but almost. I'm getting on better this term. I can blame you for that. I was my usual obnoxious self until I needed phone privileges. I told Pierre, the house prefect about you and he hands me his phone to use. He then helps me with prep. Stops the others hassling me. Just cause some guy I know is a bald vampire. You do know you're doing an excellent Nosferatu impression."

"You should see me when I'm having transfusions, it's averaging a unit a week. So the vampire thing is actually correct. I'm producing no blood cells at the moment and the transfusions are keeping me alive." Alex then got up out of bed and switched off the DVD they weren't watching. "I fancy a decent cup of coffee and a slice of cake. Lets scoot down stairs for a trip to the shop and the cafe. It's a shame we can't go for a wander but I got a real bollocking the last time I wandered off and I only went to the supermarket around the corner." Alex retrieved his wallet from his bedside cabinet and the pair went downstairs.

The private eye gave his daily report to his employer in Switzerland. Times, locations and photographs of those James Sprintz was in contact with. The PI had kept a low profile in the hospital. He noted the trips to Elephant Ward. James Sprintz had visited with his mother yesterday and in his own today, having been dropped off and picked up by his mother. The kid had visited the cafe and hospital shop with a patient. A teenager with cancer. Photos were emailed over. All in all there was nothing suspicions to note.

...

James Sprintz was tearful saying goodbye to his mother. For the first time in years he had enjoyed his holiday. His mother has cleared her schedule for him. They had eaten Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese food. All the food his father detested. He had more on common with his free spirit mother than his father. James had made the leap of faith and rekindled his close relationship with his mother. Alex was not the cheeky bindle of energy he had been, but he had enjoyed talking to his closest friend. Now, he was going to be honest with his father and see if they had any common ground.


	15. Chapter 15

"Morning, sunshine."

Alex groaned and buried himself deeper under the covers. He had not slept well and felt off, nothing specific, just the idea of not moving seemed an ideal one. The nurse pulled the covers down. "Come on Alex, I have to check your vitals, you have blood tests to look forward to and the doctor's rounds are after breakfast."

The zombie emerging from the covers then mumbled "I hate Fridays." Then he remembered, "Oh crap we have visitors today... double crap." The ward was being visited by some important member of the Charitable Trust. Little Mina had made a colourful bouquet of paper flowers to hand to the semi-famous person, who had raised large amounts of money for the hospital.

"Ahh, 99, not good. Not good at all. Any symptoms, lovely? Headache? Sore throat? Aches and pains?"

"I feel tired, well really the same as usual, but I tossed and turned all night. Tried all my usual tricks for my insomnia, you know, reading, a cup of tea, meditate and even listening to music. I did get some rest as I fell asleep about 4. Next time I should challenge Damian to a game of strip poker." Alex would not push the status quo here. He liked the clearly defined boundaries of staff and patients. He knew the ward was relaxed in some ways, with open visiting and the daily sessions of play, complimentary therapy and school, but strict on hygiene and the regime of getting the very sick children well. Alex also knew his nightmares, insomnia, poor eating habits and general avoidance tactics for all that he did not want to confront gave the staff lots to be concerned about.

The teenager was well aware of the dam he had constructed to shore up the hurt, grief, loneliness and guilt. The dam was cracking. Two nights before, Darius, the little boy aged seven down the ward in Room 11 had died. That night Mrs. Shani Danesh had sat holding her son's Spiderman blanket, waiting for her husband to arrive. She had lived at the hospital while her mother and mother-in-law took turns to look after her two daughters. Alex had made her a cup of camomile tea in the family lounge at 2:30 AM. He helped the woman devastated over the loss of her child. Then again all the staff, even Damian the man of stone were shocked and deeply affected by the heavy weight of grief.

...

_Hi everyone,_

_Apologies for the joint email but here's this weeks update from the weird and not so wonderful world of Alex Rider._

_This week has been my wake up call. I thought my path was now fairly straight. Eight courses of chemo (six down, two to go), five months of bland hospital food, more needles than any sane person can stand and that's with a Hickman Line fitted and perfecting the fine art of puking and giving it its own grading system. Do not ask how bad a ten is , but think volume, colour, consistency and distance travelled. _

_My epiphany happened two nights ago. The ward is like a family, I know everyone here better than most of you guys and you're my friends. Darius lived with his mum in Room 9, his dad came to stay at the weekends, sometimes with the rest of the family, two equally naughty sisters. They all live in Bognor on the south coast. Darius was due to go back home next week. He was officially in remission. Only he got a cold , just some sniffles really at breakfast, by lunch he was on oxygen and by 5 in the evening he was in ICU. At 2am his mother was back on ward and packing his things away. He had died. So, much for positive thinking. He was technically not terminal but its such a fine line between ill and dead. With chemo you have no immunity to anything. A cold, food poisoning, or any usual illness is serious bad news, even a bump can lead to blood poisoning._

_So that's the bummer. Terminal cases , when the cancer spreads (Level 4),are sent home, to the care of the Macmillian nurses, the local hospitals and hospices. Darius was the first kid I knew here to die. So Sabina, James, Tom and Cary , he was annoying kid with his obsession with Spider-Man. Any story I told, be it Peter Pan, Cinderella or James Bond, had to include references to Peter Parker and his spider senses. He drew me a picture which is still on my wall, of guess what? Spider-Man!. He was a handful for his ever patient mother. _

_So here's the crunch, do you all need to start on a list of things to do before you die, live each day like its your last and tell those who want to drag you down to f*** off._

_It's taken me two days two work up to this. I truly cannot wait to get out of here now. I guess I'm officially stir crazy. _

_Just to let you know I've been a sullen, obnoxious delight. My ward notes are now have me on close observation for self harm and pulling some shit, just because I'm not eating the crap food. I can't even form an escape committee. Tom's on holiday in Italy with his brother and Cary has been fostered by a nice couple in Ealing so I've been brooding my ass off..._

_Suggestions are welcome for expanding my horizons from my hospital bed. It's not pure boredom but I need some hope... Something to look forward to. I need some goals beyond school work and the four walls of this room._

_I actually can't wait for Edward to drop in tomorrow. _

_Yes you are allowed to call me maudlin and to buck my ideas up only I'm out of ideas._

_So let me know how things suck for you. _

_Love, hugs & kisses Alex_

...

Within half an hour Alex had a cryptic message from Paul Roscoe. Alex had only got to know the real James Sprintz at the school. He had only briefly met the rest of the boys once the clones were in custody. Paul's clone had not been present in the school, but had been masquerading in New York. Napoleon Grief had been arrested and convicted for Michael Roscoe's murder and had received a life sentence without parole.

Paul's email message had simple said '... send me a phone number. I'll call you straight back.'

Alex waited for the phone to ring.

"Hi Alex, you sounded kind of strung out in your last message. I guess long term care is getting to you. I can sympathise after being locked up with Dima for weeks. So, you have a private room. James said it was a nice set up, but the food looked a bit lame."

"Yeah, all the beds on this ward are for private rooms. Most kid's have a parent stay with them."

"i really get where you're coming from, Lex. Being an orphan does suck. I still have my bitch of a stepmother and her devil daughter on my case. Look, I know its a weird comparison but after I got back from France I was in guardianship limbo, with my evil stepmother acting like she cared, when I knew she preferred the Grief twin. I had security with me 24/7, private tutors, absolutely no freedom. It was as bad as that bloody school. After two months I petitioned the family court and I now live in upstate New York with a cousin of my mom's. I walked away from the supposed perfection of a multi-million dollar lifestyle to be an ordinary kid. So, what did you used to like?... sports, football and karate wasn't it, lots and lots of holidays, diving and skiing, not school, though James says thats changed. Chasing girls? Are you dating that Cary, she sounds like a nice girl."

"No, not dating... need some more head shrinking before I venture into relationships, besides, I'm sat on the fence between boys and girls."

"Can't say I like girls myself. I can blame my step mother for that, her and Miss Stomach-bag." Paul Roscoe complained.

Alex could almost imagine the sour look on Paul's face, remembering that awful woman.

Paul then continued "You will get your life back in its own natural rhythm once all the crap with chemo's over. You know James gave us all the low down. So, one piece at a time get your life back on track. Maybe even socialize outside of your normal group, think Scouts or Youth Group. Its not really ideal at this time to consider a bucket list. Post 18, with real freedom, we, as the entire group are going to have to formulate a plan for some serious partying once we are past curfews and getting grounded. I think all of us need some space, but you have the right idea, just keep focusing of the end point. Health and happiness, cause wealth seems to have caused more problems than its worth."

...

Edward was glad to be off the plane. He was not the first to immediately switch on his phone in the terminal, but his reasons were not work obsessed or a need to be in contact. He put a call through to Alex.

"Hi, Marian. Its Edward Pleasure. I've just landed and on my way in. How's Alex this morning?"

"Not brilliant, though he is talking today. Refused breakfast again. We're getting worried and would welcome some suggestions to get hi out of this funk he's in."

"Right... still not eating. Right. Can I speak to him?..."

There was the usual pause then Alex's tired voice was on the line" Morning Edward. Good flight?"

"Hi, Alex. Same as always. Sabina and Liz send their love. Do you want me to get you anything on the way into town?"

"Something nice for lunch... even a sandwich but not what you get here, you know plain egg, cheese, chicken or ham. Even a bacon sandwich or meatball or pastrami? I definitely want a meat feast. No crisps though or crusty bread. No toast either. My mouth is still a state. A decent coffee would be nice, strong, skinny. Maybe a slice of cake. Shit, I sound like a primadonna but I have no snacks left. Eaten every last scrap of food in my stash of goodies."

"So, you're starving... I'll come with goodies. See you in about two hours. See if my bags on the carousel in baggage reclaim yet."

...

Edward watched Alex demolish the Lemon muffin and gulp down the coffee. The boy giving every impression of being a normal teenager. "So, you've stopped eating hospital food?"

"God, its just so bland. same things every day. I really never got the meat and two veg mentality. I hate anything with gravy or custard. The pasta is always overcooked, its as if no one as ever heard the term al dente. The pizza makes McCains Frozen look top notch. I've practically lived on egg and chicken sandwiches since I got here and I just fancy a change."

Edward had also bought a meatball sandwich in soft sub roll as well, which Alex was saving for lunchtime. "So, no supplies left, have you got a list?"

"Yeah... icepops, cans of drink, packets of Haribo or fruit jellies, not anything sour or with sugar coatings, tea and biscuits."

"So you live of sweets and biscuits when you've had enough of the usual sandwiches. Its a wonder your teeth haven't fallen out. You're lucky Liz isn't here. She'd be reading you the riot act of good wholesome food for a healthy mind and body. Not sugary treats and carbonated drinks." Edward

"Finished with the parenting 101. I was about to ask for a Whopper, fries and onion rings for supper tonight but I guess thats off." Alex knew that Liz was a fairly strict mother, shame Edward usually caved when Sabina turned on her full 'I love you, daddy' act.

Edward shrugged "For you, I'd rather you ate shit, than not eat at all. Anyway they do burgers on the menu here."

Alex was not backing down. He wanted real food, comfort food and not what he should be eating from the nutritionally balanced standard menu here. "Right, not a patch on true fast food deliciousness. For the first time in weeks, I'm actually hungry and hospital food is not on my wish list."

"Playing the wish list card. OK. If you're eating that poor excuse for cuisine. I guess I'll be eating it as well. Plain burger then, no cheese or bacon.?"

"No adornments, just a as it comes Whopper... I have to have onion rings but we can share." Alex was salivating just thinking about it.

"And for pudding?" Edward wondered if Alex would ask for another slice of cake or an ice-cream sundae.

"Umm, I'll have to think about that. I really want cheese and biscuits but not after a burger. Raincheck for tomorrow I reckon." Alex would not push the delicate state of his stomach. His wish list had been shortened to the fact when he felt like real food he was going to eat it. If he never saw a plate of overcooked food again in his life, it would be too soon. Shame he still had weeks of dull food to look forward too.


	16. Chapter 16

Alex looked through the pile of old exam papers. All the questions posed seemed fairly straight forward, no real surprises. All in all, Cary's revision plans had been spot on. Alex had his stack of files for each subject, one containing his notes and the other his coursework for submission. January to May was going to be spent polishing his skills answering questions concisely and clearly under exam conditions. Clarissa had no doubts Alex would do well. The unit at Chelsea College was more just a formality of the system as Alex had proven he had worked on his own all year, as his appointed tutor had not really needed to supervise or motivate.

After everything, he'd even been offered a place back at Brookland, but Alex was happy to put his old school and its bad associations now firmly in the past. Alex wondered about the house at Cheyne Walk and his inheritance from both his parents and Ian, but he had over two years until he had to worry about choosing to live there again or selling up. It was being rented, the Royal and General were holding it in trust. The ex-spy wondered if the house was maybe being used as a safe house or another agent was masquerading as an 'overseas account manager', it might even be Fox. Alex was tempted to get Tom to go scout the place out but it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. He would try his best never to tempt the bank into using his friends to manipulate him again.

Alex looked at the bag of A positive blood on the IV stand. He hoped this was the last of his transfusions. With the end of his Intensive chemotherapy, he was now waiting to see if his bone marrow was healthy and able to produce normal blood cells. Then the next three months would be consolidation, the three courses of chemotherapy to insure the cancer did not return. In three days, he had his bone marrow biopsy booked in. This was crunch point and no time to relax in the careful routine of hospital life. In a five days, the Pleasure family were back in England for a three week holiday. Alex was both looking forward to his short stint with his foster family but also completely apprehensive about it. This time there was no mistaking how ill he was. He looked at the clock, it was almost lunch time. The run up to Christmas saw more visitors to the ward, to keep the kids spirits up. Alex was counting down to as his release date. His follow-up chemo would be as a day patient, as long as he was healthy. He was not going back to Lockwood House, that had already been confirmed as too risky for his compromised immune system. He had the joy of another different set of foster parents to look forward to in the New Year. Not that anything was set in stone at the moment. He still had to get the all clear; without that he was here for Christmas and well into 2003 for another full course of Intensive Chemo and the likelihood his term prognosis would plummet.

Edward had rearranged his schedule to spend Alex's last few days at Great Ormond Street with him. One of the positives of being freelance was the fact it did not matter where he worked. He had met the deadline for his current book called Assassins - death for hire. He had obtained the well kept journal of Yassen Gregorovich from a data stick that the killer had handed to Alex. From that he learned of the long tradition of hired killers trained at The Scorpia facility on Venice. Several we're still working. The list of Asassins in the book included Hunter, Alex's own father.

Alex was sat doing his school work, iPod attached to his ears, oblivious to the guest watching him. The room was tidy, unlike his own daughter's disaster area back in San Francisco. Then again the rules within the ward were strict for all the patients. Edward had a room booked in the attached hospital accommodation unit for the next few days, when Liz and Sabina would be joining him. He was here to provide moral support.

….

Far too early on Monday morning, Edward counted himself lucky that Sabina was so healthy. He'd had various trips to casualty, but no trips to operating theatre. As with his last biopsy, Alex had opted for a spinal anaesthetic rather than being totally sedated. The teenager still hated the thought of being drugged unconscious. Alex was dressed in a surgical gown and ready for his trip downstairs.

Edward was anxious, a fact that his foster son found amusing. "So Edward, it's no big deal. I get to chat with the nice doctor with dealing with the drugs and out of sight another doctor, who gets to stick a foot long needle onto my hip, extracts some bone marrow. Procedure over, twenty minutes tops."

"I know it's routine. It's just not a place any parent wants to be. You too must feel completely helpless." Edward did not like the whole enforced separation.

"That's hospitals for you. You just go with the flow and breathing exercises help. Keep focused on positives or use the good old alternative of distraction. Just go to the cafe downstairs and do some work or phone a friend." Alex watched as Edward wiped his hands on his trousers nervously but smile. Alex then thought " Just think we'll have matching limps tomorrow. It hurt like a bitch in July."

"You braved all that on your own last time; and yes Jeff told me all about you absconding from Lockwood to get diagnosed in A&E at St. Stephens, telling the hospital you were homeless." These events had been so Alex, acting alone. He had done the same when he'd found out about Desmond McCain's fake famine shoot in London. Whoever was assigned Alex's guardianship next would have their hands full.

Alex pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. "I'm still homeless, with no roots, Edward. Adrift without the benefits of comfort or security. As if I could trust myself to accept a home anywhere now, after what happened to Jack. I've only stayed put since July as I have no choice, I want to live but trust, acceptance and happiness won't come without a shit load of give and take on my part. In truth, I'm so not looking forward to Christmas. Remember I was such a happy bunny last year, as in not at all." It had been so alien being at home with Jack, when she normally went back to Baltimore and he went somewhere foreign with Ian. Jack expected a big happy family Christmas and had tried to give Alex the perfect day. Only it wasn't. At least Jack got to spend New Year with her family without silent, withdrawn and depressed Alex. "This year I feel a million times less like a slice of the season of peace and goodwill. I don't want presents but I don't want to ruin it for you guys either. I practically ruined Jack's last Christmas, since she had to spend it with me."

Edward remembered the strangely withdrawn Alex who'd arrived in Scotland last December. "Jack siad she had a great day, spent in pajamas if I remember correctly? So, was it the food, or the whole Christmas thing that got you down last year?"

"I never did the typical family Christmas. Jack always went home. Ian and I went on holiday. She did the whole egg nog, turkey with all the trimmings, but her way. She got frozen TV turkey dinners and pumpkin pie ice cream. I ended up eating a sandwich rather than the awful nasty turkey platter. God, I miss the fact she could not cook. I expect that you're served complete perfection from Liz, all from Harrods, Fortnums and Marks and Spencer."

Edward wondered on the fact Liz lived with the motto, why exhaust yourself when you can buy prepared food that was tasty and no fuss to serve. "So, no gravy or roasted veg for you then."

"I'm a freak because I'd prefer a club sandwich any day."

...

Edward took Alex's advice and phoned his wife.

Liz picked up straight way, it was 1 am in the morning. "Hi darling, I guess Alexis in theatre now?"

"Yeah, should be back on the ward by 10, I was here at 6 am. What can I say? He thinks he's going to spoil our Christmas. I think Alex has never had a decent one ever. His uncle Ian sounds like a right bastard to tell you the truth. I'm going to phone Jeff next. Alex needs careful handling. If the worst comes to the worst we move back here next year, after Sabina graduates. I am really worried he'll construct a wall and let no one in." Edward for the first time in fifteen years wanted a cigarette.

"So, he's talking to you. Thats good. I know he'll open up to Sabina. She was the first person he told about those people at Liverpool Street. I know they email regularly. She's got a column in the school website about absent family and friends. She has posted loads of photos of Alex. Alex is managing. He is strong and he will fight his way back for his friends. He has quite a few fans in Chelsea. I know Miss Bedfordshire and Rebecca Hale are part of Sabina's regular contacts as well as Cary Davies and Tom Harris. We have both been invited to the Development Meeting on Friday so we can hear what the Council has to say. We have been assured Alex is in foster care until 2005. He'll be fine. Jones and her minions can't hurt him. Alex needs structure and boundaries and he'll thrive. He's done so well so far."

Edward loved the fact his wife was always on the button and filtered a lot through Sabina that he was not party to. "So, I'm just worrying. The leaving him to get wheeled into theatre was awful, bumpkin. He thinks its oh so very routine. I just wish I had not watched the video Sabina got of the procedure. It was more gruesome than most horror movies."

...

Tom stood at the side of the field waiting for the game against St. Anthony's to start. It was the last game before Christmas. The field was just wet enough to promise they would all be filthy by half time. He looked at the thin crowd of parents, friends and the oppsoition supporters. Then he spotted Sabina Pleasure looking like model and tip toeing like a prima donna across the grass. Behind her was her dad pushing a wheelchair transporting a figure wrapped up like an Arctic explorer. Tom nudged James in the ribs and then tipped his head in the direction of James' mother who was gushing over the seated teenager.

"Sicknote's here. Told you he'd make it today."

The coach, Mr. Carstairs then piped "Who are you rabbiting on about, Harris? We're discussing tactics not your fanclub."

"Alex Rider's turned up, sir. He got out of hospital yesterday. He's in remission, you know he's got leukaemia. Only a day patient from now on."

James then piped up "Why's he in a wheelchair?"

"Oh, had a bone marrow biopsy on Monday... got a 12 inch needle stuck in his hip to extract cells to see if they were still malignant. Got the results on Tuesday. We're going out to lunch after the game. I can't wait. Its at the George. Top scran."


	17. Chapter 17

It was January the third, the end of the Christmas holidays and Edward had dropped Alex off at Hammersmith Town Hall for his meeting with the Fostering and Adoption Team. Alex already been introduced to his new foster parents by Jeff Mathers three weeks before, but today was the official handover. The Poplers were serial foster parents with over twenty years of placements both short and long term. The couple were now in their fifties, with two grown up children of their own. They had fostered ill and disabled teenagers before. They were happy to take on Alex for the next two years. His full time fostering already agreed as a medical necessity. The next three chemotherapy treatments to consolidate their remissionwere as an outpatient. No longer a full time, high risk patient.

They were a nice couple, Jeff was sure this placement was for the best. Alex was not so sure. Real families were the test to prove what a freak he really was. He smiled, but it was brittle. He excused himself to visit the toilet to escape the oppessive lovely niceness. He had already promised Liz and Edward not to fall back on his usual tricks of self reliance and running away went faced wit difficult situations.

Jenny Popler, watched the boy excuse himself to utilize the washroom. The boy was afraid and on edge, but hiding it well. He'd been polite and attentive, but after five months institutionalized as a long term hospital patient, it would be an uphill battle to get him settled back into normal life and school. Only he wasn't going to school but the Excluded Pupils Tutoring Unit at Kensington and Chelsea College. Not far from their house on Flood Street. Also handy for the Royal Marsden Hospital. The couple had spent many hours there with their former foster placement,Tiffany. Alex would be going home with them, their son Daniel still home from university for the next few days. Christmas had been the usual open house, when various former foster children had popped in. Not all placements had been successes, a few had been nightmares. Jenny had a good feel for people but she had a hard time reading Alex.

...

Having your sixteenth birthday on a Thursday sucked, especially when the weekend following it you were off to a wedding with your foster parents. Family and friends celebrating, when Alex was neither. Tom had popped around after footie practice to help Alex eat his birthday cake. The pair had fun, but at 9 Tom had gone home as it was a school night.

Life had settled into a strange calm of routine. The term at Chelsea College had Alex busy catching up on science practicals. The work part of it was fine, but Alex was enduring the taunts and cold shoulder of the other teens in the 'Exclusion Unit', as he was pegged as a complete and utter swot and teacher's pet. That brusk treatment was preferable to the few who treated him like he was made of glass, asking him if he was OK every five minutes and being over concerned out of pity. A couple of the girls had kids in childcare and were working hard to get GCSE's and then hopefully A Levels. They'd actually been OK with Alex, understanding that he was coping with getting his life back on track after six months in hospital. The only thing they'd asked was why he was bald and accepted he was recovering and on the way back to good health.

Life at the domicile was OK. Jennifer and Peter were efficient and caring, giving Alex space to settle and get comfortable, while taking hi to his appointments for chemo, check-ups and his twice weekly sessions with the 'teen psychologist'. Sabina was arranging a proper birthday bash in late June after she graduated and was busy arranging her life, after deciding to spend the summer in Europe before starting her undergraduate degree at Columbia University in New York, doing English and Journalism. So, he had his long term goals, but he was still unsure of life in a 'family'. It was still completely alien, the idea of mother, father and him. He was a square peg in their round hole. He would have preferred life on his own in a bedsit but the reality of monthly check-ups until he was eighteen afforded him no such luxuries. Last year he had wanted normal and now he had it and he truly felt like an alien, nothing had changed since failing to fit in with the Pleasures.

Peter knew they were still within the honeymoon period with Alex. He was a charming polite kid, incredibly neat, hard working and happy to do all his own laundry and cleaning. He did not quibble about the chores and the mornings after chemo when he vomited, he cleaned the bathroom with not a word of complaint to either of them that he felt awful. He talked in the family meetings of schedules and accepted with no argument that he could not stay home alone for a weekend and that he was going to have to endure the trip to Wiltshire.

They had passed Oxford on Friday on the A420 on the way to Swindon, when their foster son spoke for the first time about his past. "I've never been to a wedding before. The only family thing I ever went to was Ian's funeral. That was just me and Jack and a bunch of creeps from the Royal and General Bank. Ian didn't have friends. Jack did. She got invited to weddings, parties and such things. Only she was the housekeeper, not family. Not really."

Alex had often played 'what if' and tried to imagine if his life would have been as lonely and disjointed if John and Helen had lived. The fact was Ian had moved every three to six months, which meant Alex had never had a good friend until secondary school at Brookland. Up until Jack was hired in 1995, it had been a constant change of short term au pairs, nannies and child minders. "Ian only hired Jack after the incident in Paris when Kiki, our au pair had gone off, thinking Ian would respond to the message she'd left him. I was fine looking after myself. I knew how to shop, make sandwiches and get myself to school. Nobody twigged I was on my own for six days; until Ian arrived back from Peru or Columbia, I forget which, to find out there was no child care and he was due in Hong Kong in 48 hours. Jack got paid, free room and board and was assured I could look after myself, which I did. Jack tried to do the whole mother thing, but she could not cook. Her attempts were appallingly bad. Take out, sandwiches and pasta are my favourites anyway. So, I guess its just church, a meal and then I can go back to the hotel and work on my revision."

"Well, you get to meet my sister Laura, her husband Terry tonight. Its her only daughter who's getting married. Christina's a bit spoiled. They've spent a fortune on this do. Hence the fact I'm wearing a penguin suits and Jen's lovely designer outfit and shoes that cost more than servicing this old banger." Alex had borrowed a dark suit from the pile of Mr. Harris' clothes. "It only be a few hours tonight, Alex. You can talk to Terry about football, he's a coach on the local under 16 league." Peter gave a quick look to see that Alex was blank faced, showing no emotion. Peter would have been more happy with a stroppy, sarcastic or plain grunting teenager. Of all the kids they had looked after, Alex was the quietest and the most worrying.

They arrived at the large house at Groundwell for the family meal at 6:30. In time to learn of all the ups and downs over the past weeks in preparation of the big day. Church wedding at 2:30 followed by the reception at the Wellmount Country Manor Hotel. Christina was tall, blond and dressed impeccably, like her mother. All heard tales of her fiancee, the bond trader. Alex was polite and got the fact he was only here on sufferance. The meal consisted of roast lamb, potatoes and veg was the last thing on earth Alex wanted to eat. He forced eat mouthful down with loads of water. He wished they had a dog, when the bread and butter pudding was brought out. He managed to swallow the vileness before excusing himself to the bathroom, which Christina accompanied him to. It was fantastic, they thought he was a bloody pikey. What was he going to do, steal the toilet? As he shut and locked the door, he made sure he could clean up the mess he was about to make and he vomited up the disgusting food he'd forced himself to eat. He wished he could brush his teeth but made do with rinsing his mouth out with the available mouthwash. The toilet was spotlessly clean and thankfully his shadow was not by the door.

As he returned to the dining room, the conversation stopped. "Are you feeling OK, Alex?" Peter asked.

"Err, fine. Never better." Alex replied, smiling and drinking the coffee that had been poured for him.

He watched the concerned look that passed between Peter and his sister. They'd obviously been talking about what a freak he was and the possibility of him fucking up their perfect daughter's perfect day. Alex clenched his fists tightly, he was not going to start biting his nails. It was a bit like the pretense of family he'd endured with the Friend family. He just had to sit it out and act like he belonged.

He could not help the huge yawn erupt as he listened to stilted politeness.

Peter then piped up, "We better get this young man to bed. See you all at St. Cuthbert's tomorrow afternoon. Ring me if you need anything doing"

Alex was thankful they were staying at the hotel, where the reception was taking place. He had his own room to slink back to.

Peter and Jenny had been busy all morning, leaving early to help with preparations. Alex had slept late and missed breakfast. At 1PM, he was scrubbed up, dressed and waiting for his foster parents to be ready. He was hungry, it would be another three hours before the drinks and nibbles before the reception.

At the church, things started to go wrong. It was being videoed and photographs taken during the ceremony. Alex was technically meant to be sat with the bride's family at the front of the church. Only he wasn't familt and Christina had discussed her requirements with the best man, who was insisting he sit elsewhere, so the bald, sick foster kid wasn't visible. Alex took the hint and left to sit in the car park, on the grass next to Peter's Jag, on the decidedly cold February afternoon.

After an hour Peter and Jenny returned "There you are. Well, did you enjoy the service? Sorry about the ushers moving you away from us." Peter was rubbing his next nervously. "I guess you were at the back, so got out of the church first. The photos have been taken, so we can get off the the reception."

Lack of food and being bone cold left Alex shivering in the car on the way to the reception. "Err, Jenny... Can I go to the room? I feel a bit off."

"Sure thing, haven't been sick again, have you?"

Alex then realised they all knew about his bit of induced vomiting last night. Better to let them think he was a bit ill, rather than be on the watch list as anorexic/bulmic. "No, I've not eaten, I did not want to chance puking in the church."

"Go and rest. I'll pop up and see you later."

After a hot bath, Alex had climbed into bed to keep warm. He had not meant to fall asleep but at 3am, he was wide awake and realised he'd missed everything and still felt crap. Still cold and very thirsty. Only he could not be bothered to make some tea, but forced himself to the toilet to drink from the tap and relieve his bladder.

...

At seven, Jenny woke to note Peter laid flat on his back and still snoring after too much wine last night. She showered and dressed and used the spare key card to go see if Alex was feeling any better. He had not showed up at the reception but if he was still feeling a bit off, that was to be expected.

The room was hot, the heating on full and it smelt of sweaty teenager. She went to open the drapes and saw Alex curled up in the bed, shivering. Her inquiry of "Morning Alex, How are you feeling?" got a coughing fit in reply.

Alex reached for the plastic beaker he'd brought back from the bathroom in the small hours this morning.

"I'll get you some more, it empty." Jenny let him drink and when she was sure he was fully awake she felt his forehead. He was feverish, hot and sweaty. The woman was on the phone down to reception to arrange a visit from a GP, if one could not make a visit,they would have to take the sick boy to hospital. Then she remembered the groom's uncle was a doctor. "Daryl's uncle is a doctor, he's on his way up from breakfast. He just has to collect his bag from his car."

The rumours had circulated about the bride's aunt and uncle bringing their foster son. One who had not sat in on the ceremony or come to the reception. Mark Danvers knew that the best man had been ordered by the bride to make sure the anorexic bald kid was not on any photos or visible on the wedding dvd.

The doctor was met by Mrs Popler, a charming woman with a big heart. Then he asked on a low voice about the patients medical history.

"... That about covers the basics, but depression after finishing chemotherapy is quite common. Alex spent five months in Great Ormond Street with only two fairly minor infections. His last transfusion and dose of chemo was ten days ago. His blood count last weeks was good. ". Jenny then sighed " He's not settled in with us yet yet. After five weeks he has only just started to open up to us. He has control issues over food. Otherwise he's a quiet, studious and very serious young man. He has been very withdrawn since his 16th birthday on Thursday . He has no basis of normal growing up with his uncle, he was not abused just neglected. From the age of seven, Alex practically brought himself up."

The doctor could just imagine a lonely, very self reliant child would be lost after losing ultimate control to a serious illness. Now, he was rudderless and trying to gain control in an unfamiliar environment.

"Morning Alex, I'm Mark. My practice is in Somerset, near the coast. I have to admit, you are the first patient I've seen with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Let me see what you vitals are like first."

"102 that's very high. When did you notice you were feeling off". The doctor knew Alex had vomited on Friday and had not eaten yesterday.

"I woke up at three, still feeling cold. I was a bit cold arriving back here from the church. I had a hit bath and went straight to bed. I was very thirsty but I hadn't drunk much yesterday, just two cups of tea. Really it was when Jenny woke me up. I was all sweaty and had a bit of a cough." Alex was praying he did not need to go to hospital. It was just a cold, nothing to worry about.

The doctor had left to talk to his foster mother. That was the one thing that sucked, Alex preferred it when the medical professionals talked to him, but he was in the strange position of no longer being in control. Even at Great Ormond Street, Mr. Conway had treated Alex like an adult, it was weird being treated like a kid.


End file.
